


The Mating Games

by ktface3



Category: Hunger Games (2012), Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Time, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-13
Updated: 2012-07-17
Packaged: 2017-11-07 15:07:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 91,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ktface3/pseuds/ktface3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And so it was decreed that each year, the twelve districts of Panem shall offer up in tribute the men and women aged 18 years who have not pair bonded with a mate, to compete to be deemed worthy enough to procreate." AU, Peeta's POV, note the M rating. This fic has a beautiful banner, made by Ro Nordmann! Copy and paste and take out the spaces: h t t p :/tinyurl . com/c99udmf</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Chase

**Author's Note:**

> This fic can be found in its entirety on fanfiction.net, but is moving here due to a possible crackdown on explicit fics there. Enjoy!

 

I wander through the vast meadow near the outskirts of town. I can see her sitting there on the far side, undoing her braid and letting her long, silky, chocolate hair cascade down against her back. It blows in the breeze and she keeps tucking a few errant strands behind her ear. She looks so peaceful, and for a moment I ponder not disturbing her, just enjoying in the reverie she's experiencing on this sunny, summer day. But I keep marching forward. I have a purpose being out in this meadow.

I walk across the grasses that crunch under my feet, and approach the object of my affections with reverence. I kneel directly in front of her and gently touch the hairs that will not stay tucked and have been whipping about in the wind. I pull them back and lean in to kiss her now exposed cheek, and I can feel her face heat up beneath my lips. I pull back and she's blushing at me, looking more radiant than I have ever seen her, and giving me a look that only calls one word to mind: desire.

Before I can blink, she pounces on me and I land on my back in the rough grass. I watch her above me as her hair drapes in my face and tickles my nose. Her legs are on either side of me, and she's angled at just the right spot to press down on my ever-prominent erection. Well, at least it's ever-prominent when she's around. She lets her weight fall on my length and when she notices what she's sitting on, a giggle escapes her lips.

I almost come right there at the sound of her gentle laughter—part embarrassed, part frisky, and completely adorable.

She leans down and presses her soft lips against mine, and as our kiss deepens, I can feel her grinding against me in anticipation. Her body is telling me she wants to go further, but does she herself feel the same? I pull away and gaze longingly into her gray eyes, which have taken on a dark and lustful look to them. Grazing her hip with the tips of my fingers, I whisper, "Are you sure you want to do this?"

She smiles sweetly and gives me a small peck on my lips, then presses her forehead to mine. All I can see is her eyes, but I can feel her ragged breath on my cheek. She whispers to me, but my blood runs cold at the realization that it is not the voice of my Katniss whispering anymore.

"Dude, quit jacking off in your sleep and get up! It's already 9am and the whole family's over."

My eyes fly open and I release myself from my grip—how did my hand get down there?—and I whip my head around to find myself staring up at my older brother. He gives me an all-knowing smirk and I'm flooded with annoyance at his smugness. This isn't the first time he's caught me with my dick in my hand, but it was one of the better dreams I've had in a while, and he just had to go and ruin it.

My erection gone, I huff loudly and peel myself from the sweaty sheets. "Thanks a lot, Phyl," I practically growl at him. He makes a big show of backing away from me like I'm a leper, putting his hands up to guard himself as I brush past him.

"Woah, don't even think of getting near me, at least until you've washed your hands," he teases. I give him the finger as I walk to the bathroom, and to that he shouts down the narrow hall, "I don't think any customers want spunk in their bread today!"

I groan as I reach the bathroom and close the door as hard as I can without slamming it, afraid Mother is already on her way to us after hearing our shouting. Luckily she doesn't holler, so she must be too far away from our room at the moment.

Chilly water cascades down my back, and I try to scrub up as quickly as possible; District 12 is not known for comfortable water temperatures. I wrap a towel around my shivering body and wonder if Katniss has to take cold showers. I wonder if homes in the Seam have showers at all, or maybe she takes baths. At least then she could boil the water so she wouldn't freeze to death…

The image of Katniss sitting naked in a steaming bath invades my mind, and I shiver again, although not from the cold this time.

I give myself a critical look in the mirror as I scrub my teeth with mint paste. I can't believe how long I've let my love go on unrequited, and how now it may already be too late. But I did check the board at the Justice Building last night, and her name was still illuminated. A good sign, but I'll have to check today as well.

Why no one else is throwing himself at her is a mystery to me. My interest in her has only grown over the years. She's just so elusive—the way she barely talks to anyone, the seemingly random things that make her smile, how different she is from all the other girls in District 12…

It's intriguing. It's exciting.

I pat my underarms with powder to keep them from sweating and exhale in a huff. I may as well face the facts: I'm a chicken shit who has never spoken two words to Katniss Everdeen, and my chances of making her mine today are slim to none. Still, she may just be desperate enough to want to avoid the Games.

Or, maybe she wants to be in the Games so she has a chance to go to District 2; I know that's where they sent her "friend" Gale two years ago.

Back in my room, I dress in whatever I pull out of my closet first, and head downstairs. I find the rest of my family in the kitchen: Father slicing some day-old sourdough bread, Mother nursing a cup of tea, Rylee and his wife wrangling their two little ones, and Phyllo looking pensive as his wife watches Rylee's kids longingly. I know she and Phyl have been trying for quite a while to have children without any luck, and I sincerely hope the Capitol doesn't have to intervene on their efforts.

See, Panem has population problems. Infant mortality rate is high, many suffer from malnutrition or dangerous working conditions, and the suicide rate… Well, in any case, the way that the Capitol has chosen to deal with these problems is to regiment our procreation. Every citizen of Panem is pair bonded by age 18, is expected to produce their first child by age 22, and must produce at least three children in their lifetime. Things have gotten better, but not by much. The Capitol maintains that it takes a few generations for the country to see true growth. Or, so I've heard.

Those who do not meet expectations are punished in various methods, the worst of which is The Mating Games. Those 18-year olds who haven't found someone to pair bond with by the day of Reaping are entered into a fierce competition, where the Capitol decides if someone is worthy enough to even become bonded to another person. It's humiliating at best, and life threatening at worst. If the Capitol concludes that you aren't worthy and can't contribute to society, they have the right to execute you.

This is the fate that could await me if I don't find Katniss soon.

My family's actions grind to a halt as I enter the room, all of them looking at me with fear and anger in their eyes. They're worried, as they should be, because I'm taking a huge risk in waiting until today to secure a wife. I try not to look ashamed as I take a seat at the table and reach for a slice of sourdough.

Mother finally breaks the silence and slams her hand down on the table, making her tea splash out of its cup. "Peeta, why is your name still lit up on the board?" she asks me in frustration. "You know Reaping day is today, don't you? As in, you've run out of time."

"I still have three hours," I argue. It is the weakest argument I've ever made about anything, and everyone knows it.

"Oh, three whole hours?" Phyl interjects sarcastically. "Well, that's plenty of time. Why was I ever worried in the first place?"

"Peet, you need to find someone who will help you run the bakery," Rylee tells me as he puts a hand on my shoulder. "You know that Phyl and I can't just drop everything we have to come back here to work for the rest of our days. And let's face it; you're the best baker of all of us anyway. You need to stay in District 12, and to do that you need to pair bond with someone from our district."

Father clears his throat, "I think what your mother and brothers are trying to say, is that we're all concerned that you've let the situation escalate this far, and we want to know what you intend to do about it."

I take a good look around at my family: my brothers, who have both left the house and have their own families and jobs to be responsible for; my mother, as sour as the bread I'm eating and who would not approve of the girl who I've pined for over the years anyway; and my father, who means well but hasn't provided any guidance on how to handle my feelings for Katniss, even though he's known about them all along.

They all knew this day was coming just as well as I did, and yet they chose now to confront me about it? I guess we're just a whole family of chicken shits.

Annoyed with their too-little-too-late concern, I snap at them, "Look, I'm going to go ask a girl to pair bond with me right now, and if she doesn't want me, then I'm fine with letting the Capitol decide what to do with me. Anyone have a problem with that?"

I don't even wait for their reactions as I grab my jacket and head out the back door. The morning air is still crisp, and I can see a bit of my breath as I huff in irritation. Maybe it would be better if I entered the Games and was taken away to a new district where I wouldn't have to put up with their bullshit. But then where would Katniss be? Despite everything else, I know my main priority is to stay with her, always.

I take long, purposeful strides through the back alleyway until I've reached the side street that will take me to the center of town. I need to check the board once more to make sure Katniss is still available. The streets are bustling with crowds as they finish preparations for the various toastings and ceremonies to celebrate that their children have pair bonded.

That does make me stop and think: Father must have closed the store for a while, on what is one of the busiest days of the year, so that they could stage their little "intervention" for me. Considering that Mother keeps the store open every day of the year no matter what, I should interpret their actions as proof that they care about my wellbeing, at least a little.

Now I feel bad that I caused such a scene. I'll have to make it up to them all by securing a wife.

I reach the Justice Building and look up at the giant board with all the names of the 18-year olds in District 12. Most of the names are darkened, but a few are still illuminated by light bulbs shining behind them. Mine is; I notice it right away, like it's taunting me.

PEETA MELLARK

I glance up to the to right corner of the board and find Katniss' name still shining brightly as well, and it fills me with hope that maybe this strategy of playing to her desperation will work out for me.

I'm about to leave when something catches my eye. Delly Cartwright's name is darkened, as is Roman Higgins'. Two of my best friends have secured their futures, but with who? It's hard to tell, because there are quite a number of names that have gone dim between last night and now. It's always this way, the last minute scramble to find someone, anyone, who you can at least tolerate as a spouse.

The large clock posted above the board on the Justice Building reads 10:30. I have time, so I decide to make a detour to Delly's house to congratulate her. She's on the way to the Seam anyway.

I approach the shoe shop and can see Delly with her family through the window. They're all smiles, laughing and drinking wine, a delicacy here in District 12. I'm glad at least someone is making their family happy.

Then I see a tall, lanky, brown-haired man approach Delly's short and stout frame and I gasp. Not only did Delly and Roman become pair bonded last night, but they became pair bonded to each other! That's hard to wrap my mind around, because whenever all of us have hung out together, Roman was always, always teasing Delly about her "frizzy" yellow hair or her "lumpy" figure, and he even made her cry once or twice. To think of the two of them, pair bonded…

Delly spies me looking at the scene, gives me a smile and a wave, and practically skips out of the shoe shop. "Isn't it wonderful, Peeta?" she exclaims. "It turns out Roman admired my figure all along!"

"That's great, Del," I say sincerely. "I have to say, I couldn't really believe it when I first saw it."

"Well, believe it, buddy," Roman laughs as he steps outside and wraps his arms around Delly. "I just couldn't fight my feelings anymore. This girl is the girl for me."

They smile and gaze at each other for a while, and I start to feel awkward, like I'm invading on their private moment. I clear my throat and say, "Well, I'm very happy for you both. I know you'll have a lovely life together."

"Thank you, Peeta," Delly replies sweetly, then her expression falls. "Wait, last I looked your name was still lit up. Oh, Peeta, you have to go! What are you doing wasting your time here?"

"I, uh—" I stammer. What am I doing here? Procrastinating, I suppose? Yeah, that must be it, because I'm a big fat coward. I sigh and finally admit it. "I'm stalling. Because I'm scared. But you're right, Delly, I need to go." I give them a weak grin. "I'm just glad I got to witness all of this."

They smile back sympathetically at me, both aware of the risk I'm taking, and I turn and walk toward the Seam.

"Good luck, Peeta!" Delly cries out after me. I give them one last wave and check the time posted on the street corner.

11am! Shit, I only have an hour!

I break out into a run and find the streets and houses ahead dusted with black coal. I've only ever been in the Seam a few times, if my father needed something illegal from the Hob, or if my brothers dared me to stay in this part of town for as long as I could… I was always too scared to stay more than a few minutes.

I know where the Everdeen's house is though; I had made note of its location long ago when I was here with my father and I saw Katniss and her family coming out their front door. Her mother had fresh herbs for healing medicines growing in various pots in the yard.

That is how I'm able to locate their house today. I slowly approach the front door and concentrate on the only argument I have to convince beautiful, daring, enigmatic Katniss to be mine. I think of the only thing I have to offer her, which is that I see her and love her for what she truly is. I know a lot of boys who want a homemaker for a wife, and it makes me sick to my stomach to think of that as her fate. That's not who she is, not who I would want her to be…

With these words on the tip of my tongue, I knock rapidly on the door and suppress the urge to run away in terror. I can't be afraid of her rejection anymore, because today there are much worse things to fear.

The handle turns and the door opens to find a wiry, fair-haired girl on the other side. I know this girl is Katniss' younger sister, Primrose, who Katniss loves more than anything, and she gives me a curious, expectant look as I stand there fidgeting. Oh, right! I need to say words.

"Um, er, hi."

Stellar beginning. I'm sure she's impressed with my way with words.

I clear my throat and try again. "I'm looking for Katniss. Is she home?"

"You're looking for Katniss? No one ever comes looking for Katniss! What's your name?" Primrose asks, curiosity alight in her eyes.

"Um, Peeta… Mellark."

"You're family owns the bakery!"

"Yes," I laugh sheepishly.

"I love the cookies and cakes that your family makes. I look at them every day on my way to and from school. They are so pretty!"

"Thank you," I say, feeling more and more confident. Maybe if I win over her sister, Katniss will be more inclined to pair bond with me. "I actually frost a lot of those myself."

Primrose gasps, "Oh, well you are very talented! Why have I never seen you with Katniss before?"

"Uh, well…" I may as well cut to the chase. I sigh and admit, "I've kind of been afraid to talk to her until now."

"That's understandable. She can be intimidating," Primrose says with a knowing smirk.

I protest, "No, no, it's my problem. I shouldn't be so scared to talk to her."

"Well, she's not here, unfortunately," Primrose tells me sadly, which makes my heart sink. Now I know I don't have enough time to go looking for her. "She's been out hunting all morning, but by now she's probably in the meadow near the outskirts of town. She always goes there to rest afterward. You know which one I'm talking about?"

I try not to look like I'm freaking out as I remember my pleasant dream from this morning, and how it turned out to be more of an omen. I can only hope things go as well in real life.

"Yeah, I know which one. Thank you!" I holler as I take off running back toward town.

"Best of luck, Peeta!" Primrose shouts after me. "And, nice to meet you!"

Just as I reach the edge of the Seam, I take a turn down a back alley and break into a full on sprint. I'm cutting it very close now, but maybe I can still reach her in time. I almost knock over an old woman as I turn a corner, and when I reach the edge of the meadow, I take the shortest of moments to catch my breath on the side of a building and take in the scene around me.

I have a panoramic view of the beautiful field that stretches out in front of me, with small flowers blossoming all around it. And over on the far side, near the electric fence, I see my Katniss sitting on a rock, concentrating on skinning a rabbit. And just as in my dream, she keeps tucking short strands of her hair behind her ear.

Literally, it is now or never.

Just like in my dream from this morning, I walk through the crunchy grass determinedly. Katniss turns her head and stares at me with a confusing expression on her face. Part of it is perplexed, like she's asking to herself, what is he doing here? The other part looks, well… rather horrified, actually. I consider taking that look as rejection for just a moment, but then I remind myself that I must do this.

Katniss stands as I get closer, until we are an arm's length apart, just staring at each other. She still looks confused and frightened, but now also appears as though she will stand her ground, like she will fight me if she has to.

This is not how I pictured it going.

I exhale, practically shaking from nerves, and open my mouth to speak.

"Katniss, I—"

The loud chimes of the clock on the Justice Building drown my words out.

Twelve o'clock. I'm too late.


	2. The Reaping

Another beautiful banner: this one by the talented mkystich on FF.net.

 

 

The last chime has barely finished ringing, and Katniss has already gathered her things to leave. She looks unfazed by the signal for those who haven't pair bonded to start getting ready the Reaping. She almost looks… resolved, like she knew this would be her fate all along.

I feel terrified, and I'm sure it shows on my face.

Her kill secured on her belt, she takes one glance at me and says possibly the first words she's ever spoken directly to me.

"I have to go," she murmurs and brushes past me, on her way back to the Seam.

"Katniss! Wait!" I cry out, because now that I've tried and failed, I apparently have no dignity anymore. I jog up next to her, standing in the middle of the field, and I graze her arm lightly with my fingertips. I can feel her tense up at my touch, and a look flashes in her eyes again like she's ready to fight me. "I'm really sorry, that I didn't get to you in time," I tell her sincerely, assuming she knows why I wanted to see her in the first place. "I guess we're both going to the Capitol now."

She continues to stare at me with that confused, fearful expression, then turns on her heel without a word and takes off running, leaving me standing in the meadow, humiliated.

That was  _so_  not how I had thought that encounter would go.

Defeated, I sink down into the grasses and watch them sway gently in the breeze. The only thought on my mind now is how do I convince her  _and_  the Gamemakers that she and I should be together?

I know how the Games work well enough: we tributes are presented to the citizens of the Capitol. Then we have three days to prove to the Gamemakers that we have some useful skills, and are ranked based on how worthy we are to be pair bonded. Next comes our interview with Caesar Flickerman, where we make our case for what we want out of a mate, and finally come the Games themselves. We're released into an arena to search and compete and bargain our way into a pair bonding, and if we go after someone the Gamemakers don't think is suitable for us, they put obstacles in our way. Eventually, everyone has paired off and the Gamemakers decide the "logistics" of all our lives: which district to live in, what job to have… usually we go where they deem that we would be most useful.

If there is one tribute left over, he or she is usually killed in some horrific way. Some years, there have been two or three tributes left who do not want to bond with each other, or can't bond with each other, and so they are all eliminated.

I feel a small tug in my gut, and I can't help but think that this could be Katniss' fate. And possibly my own as well, because I want only her and it seems as if she doesn't want anyone.

And then there are those fates that are possibly worse than death. A few years ago, a tribute named Finnick Odair charmed his way into the hearts—and panties—of every female tribute, but was never taken seriously as a potential mate, and was the only one left at the end of the Games. Now, rumor has it that he's very popular in the Capitol for his sexual talents, but he's tried to commit suicide four or five times because he feels… unfulfilled, or something.

It's all only gossip. Maybe Finnick really is happy. He sure looked happy during the Games…

With a heavy sigh, I stand up and brush myself off, ready for the hellfire that is surely awaiting me at home. I need to be dressed in my best clothes for the Reaping ceremony at 2 o'clock, and then, goodbye District 12.

I can't help but feel as though all eyes are on me as I make my way home. I'm sure everyone who passes me on the street thinks of how pathetic it is that couldn't even find a mate. One guy I pass even pats me on the back, which just makes me mad. I don't need his sympathy. Katniss is just as much in the Games as I am, and dammit, I am going to make her mine if it is the last thing I do!

Now, back to the question at hand:  _how_  to accomplish this?

Nothing comes to mind. I am so screwed.

I enter the back door of the bakery quietly, and find my father at the sink washing dishes. He doesn't look angry, not that I expected him to. He looks more… disappointed than anything else. I can't stand to look him in the eyes for more than a few seconds, but I know he will be the most understanding of all my family members, so I collapse into a chair at the kitchen table.

"I'm… so sorry, Father," I sigh. It's all I can say. This brings as much shame on my family as it does to me, and I'm sure that's all anyone will be talking to them about for weeks, maybe months.

Father turns off the sink and wipes his hands with a dishtowel as he pulls out the chair next to me. "It's alright, son," he tells me, and puts a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry too. I should've pushed you more to start your courting earlier. Much earlier." He laughs to himself. "I thought since Rye and Phyl did alright, then you would've watched them and would've known how to do it, but I guess you're just as clueless as your old man."

I smile a little, although I don't really know what he means. He and Mother clearly aren't romantic with one another, but they never talk about their courtship...

"I saw that she's in the Games as well though," Father notes, and smiles genuinely at me. "There may be a chance after all."

"Maybe," I concede. "But you should've seen her today when I tried to talk to her. She looked like she was ready to gut me like one of her prey. How do I get her to, or, how do I convince her to… to be my  _wife_ , of all things?"

Father scratches his chin for a moment, and then comes up with this gem of advice: "Peet, you've loved her since you were five years old. You love her more than anyone ever will. Just make her see that."

"Gee, that's helpful," I reply sarcastically.

"I told you I wasn't very good at these things," he chuckles back.

Mother then suddenly appears out of nowhere and descends the stairs, the yardstick in her hand. "You stupid boy!" She screams as Father and I stand and scurry to the other side of the table, away from her. "You have brought shame to this family! I hope you leave this district and never come back!"

She grabs me by the arm, her sharp nails digging into my bicep, and I wail in pain as she plows the stick across my back.

I've only ever been hit with the yardstick twice before: once, when I was seven, I had eaten an entire batch of cookies that were warm and fresh out of the oven. Mother had gone to the front of the store after pulling them out, and I just couldn't resist that sweet smell. The other time was when I was eleven, and I purposefully burnt two loaves of bread so that I could give them to Katniss, who was sitting outside in the rain, starving to death.

I regret my behavior on only one of those two occasions.

Mother cracks the yardstick against my back a second time before Father wrestles it out of her hands.

"Stop it, Noora!" he bellows. "He feels badly enough!"

"I will be the judge of that, Bannock!" she hollers back, letting go of my arm and pushing me to the floor. She steps on my head and presses my face into the wooden boards. "You feel that? You are lower than dirt! You are the scum of the earth for bringing shame to our family!"

"Noora, please!" Father shouts as he lifts Mother up and away from me. It's a good thing he's so large and able to pick her up with ease. "The poor boy has been through enough. And he's about to go through much worse." Father helps me up off the floor and instructs, "Go get washed up and put on your best clothes. We'll walk you to the Justice Building."

I nod at my father and avoid my mother's piercing glare as I make my way up the stairs to the bathroom. I wash up as quickly as I can, peeling my shirt off delicately to reveal the open wounds from the stick, and I clean and bandage them as best as I can. Luckily she didn't get me too badly this time. Not like when I burnt the bread—I think I still have scars from that incident.

To get on Mother's good side, I also try to style my hair so that it doesn't look "like a shaggy dog," as she would say. I think it looks strange and feels uncomfortable, but I suppose it passes for dignified.

I wonder what Katniss would think of it…

Ugh, I am so pathetic! I'm really just kidding myself—she probably wouldn't even notice, considering her behavior today. And as I stare at myself in the mirror, I realize that that's what I have to do: I have to make her notice me first. And once I really have her attention, I will convince her that I'm her best choice for a mate.

I pull out my best button-down shirt and slacks from my closet—both faded, old things passed down from my brothers, but still in pretty good condition—and dress quickly. I don't think either of them wore these nice clothes more than a handful of times; in fact, I think Phyl wore this to his toasting. How appropriate.

After putting on my dress socks and double knotting my shoelaces, I trudge downstairs to find that the whole family has once again assembled in the kitchen. Their expressions are somber, save for Rylee's two kids, who are too young to understand what's going on.

"There's my boy," Father calls everyone's attention to me. "You look good, son. Er… nice hair."

I touch it self-consciously and then realize I shouldn't mess it up. I shrug and reply, "I tried to make it look presentable."

Mother glances up from the table and scrutinizes my appearance. After appraising me, she gives me one nod, and I have her stamp of approval. I'm glad to be back in her good graces again so easily; I didn't want to leave with her so mad.

"Here," Rylee says, and moves forward, holding out his hand. In his palm is a small, gold locket strung on a chain that I know I've seen before in the box of Father's family heirlooms. "It's for you. It was Grandmother's," he explains, and opens the locket to reveal a photo of Mother and Father on one side, young and smiling, and a photo of me with my brothers on the other side, taken several years ago at Rylee's toasting. "It's just something to remind you where you came from, if…"

"If you happen to find yourself with a new life in a new district," Phyl finishes.

They all manage to smile at me, and I smile back as I take the locket and put it around my neck, tucking it into my shirt. "Thank you," I tell them, "I'll miss you guys."

"Let's hope for the best, though," Father instructs us. "After all, District 12 does need a baker. I'm getting too old for this work!"

We all share a quiet laugh and make our way out the door together. I can't help but feel a sense of overwhelming love from my family at this moment as we walk toward the center of town. It's more love than I've ever felt before, and even Mother's presence speaks volumes. I was sure she'd want to stay at home and tend to customers, and perhaps she does, but the rest of the family must've insisted that she come along. I wouldn't put it past them.

We reach the town square and find it bustling with activity. There are crowds everywhere I look, mostly families and fellow 18-year olds who were lucky enough to stay out of this ordeal, all settling in to watch the Reaping. I spot Delly and Roman with their families, and give them a small wave. Delly looks like she's about to burst into tears, and then buries herself in Roman's shirt. He holds her close and acknowledges me with a nod, and I quickly do the same before Phyl pushes me onward toward the front.

At the front of the square, just before the stage, there are designated spots for each tribute and their families to stand. It looks like there are five tributes from District 12 this year, and I am the only male. The first thing that pops into my mind is that, if I weren't so stubborn, I probably could've easily settled for one of these other girls, saving both her and myself from the Games.

I look down the row at the other tributes lining up. Dynah Morris is built like Katniss, but in my opinion, is rather loud and annoying. Cecilia Frazier has the dark hair and gray eyes of a Seam girl, but doesn't really resemble Katniss in any other way. And Cooley Hammond, with her blond hair, blue eyes, and broad shoulders, may as well be my doppelganger.

None of them really compare to the girl now standing at the other end of the row with her mother and little sister, looking stoic in a flowing, light blue sundress. It is the most feminine I've ever seen her look, and I have to discreetly adjust myself so that I don't pitch a tent in front of the entire town. No, I probably couldn't have settled for another girl, which is why I'm standing here with an uncomfortable boner that will not go away because Katniss just looks that good.

Then Effie Trinket steps on stage, with her wild, pink hair and her powdered face, and in my disgust for her, I find instant relief. Looking at her works better than thinking of dead puppies, or the smell of Phyl's gym clothes.

Those Capitol people must have some strange tastes…

Mayor Undersee takes the podium first, and begins to read the history of Panem: how our continent, once called North America, was ravaged by natural disasters—droughts, storms, fires, floods—and of a great war that took place to secure the little land that remained. He talks of how Panem, with its thirteen districts and ruling Capitol, rose like a phoenix from the ashes and brought peace to those who survived the war. He finishes by recalling the Dark Days, where more perished each day than were born, and how those in District 13 blamed the Capitol for all those deaths. As the story goes, the Capitol wiped District 13 off the map, new laws were created to guarantee population growth and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, the Mating Games were created.

Hearing that story makes me think: just because procreation is regulated does not change the fact that so many are still dying. It's almost as if the Capitol doesn't care about the terrible working conditions in the mines, or that there is one real doctor for our population of almost eight thousand. They just care about bodies, specifically, that there are more living ones than dead ones.

But to say something like that out loud would be treasonous, and would bring about public fear of becoming the next District 13. So I keep my mouth shut and keep those feelings locked inside.

"It is both a time for repentance and a time for thanks," intones the mayor.

He then introduces the tributes' mentor and the only living District 12 citizen to be granted Single status after the Games: Haymitch Abernathy. Apparently he used to be brilliant, and invented some gadget that the Capitol now uses, so they keep him alive and consult with him every once in a while about it. But since leaving the Games alive and returning to his home district, he's fallen into a constant, drunken stupor.

That's how he looks right now as he stumbles onto the stage, hollering something at the crowd and trying to give Effie a hug. She ducks out of the way and her wig almost falls off her head, and everyone in the crowd laughs at him. I don't though; I can't help but feel bad for the guy. He's a walking joke.

After putting her wig back in place, Effie takes the podium and cheerfully greets the crowd. "Happy Mating Games! And may the odds be  _ever_  in your favor!" She babbles on about how  _wonderful_  it is to be here, and I try not to look as bored as I feel. Everyone knows that what's she's saying is a load of crap.

I take a moment to glance at Katniss at the other end of the row. She's holding her sister's hand and her eyes are downcast, and for a second I think she's going to start to cry. But she takes a deep breath, and looks back at the stage, her face expressionless again, and I think to myself that maybe I imagined it.

"Let's have a look at this year's tributes!" Effie announces, and motions for Katniss to come up on stage. Katniss takes one last, longing look at her mother and sister and hugs each of them tightly, then darts up the stairs and takes her place next to Effie. "May I present, Miss Katniss Everdeen!"

The crowd gives a light applause as Katniss stands there like a statue looking resolved, just as she had looked in the meadow when the chimes went off. Yes, she expected this to be her fate.

Effie announces the rest of us in alphabetical order, and when she gets to my name, my brothers practically pummel me when they come in for a hug. Mother even gives me a soft embrace, an occurrence that has happened just about as often as the yardstick has, and I make my way onstage to join my fellow tributes.

"May I present, Mister Peeta Mellark!"

Phyl and Rylee make whooping noises for me as the rest of the crowd applauds, and I can feel my face getting red.

Once all of us are onstage, something… unexpected happens. Haymitch, who until now I thought had passed out, starts roaming about the stage and heads in our direction. The girls all scatter—even Katniss steps out of his way—and Haymitch ends up bracing himself on my shoulders. I try to support his dead weight as he slurs at me, "Juss try to gedlaid as muchsss you can outtherrr, before dey take it alllll away fromm you!"

He then loses his balance, and falls off the stage. The crowd goes nuts.

"Do something!" Effie hisses at Mayor Undersee, who wildly gestures to a few guards to carry Haymitch away. She plasters on a modest smile and says to the crowd, "What an exciting day!" She then covers the microphone and chews out the mayor. "Am I running the whole show today?" she asks rhetorically. "Get off your ass and come read the treaty!"

The fear of Effie's wrath in his eyes, Mayor Undersee comes back to the podium and reads the Treaty of Proliferation, a customary closing of the annual ceremonies. It's long and boring, and even he stumbles over the language, but I'm not really listening to him.

I'm thinking of the advice Haymitch gave me before he took a nosedive off the stage:

_Just try to get laid as much as you can out there, before they take it all away from you._

It worries me for two reasons. The first reason is that, well, I'm a virgin. Plain and simple. It's not like I haven't witnessed sex—between watching the Games every year and walking in on Phyl and his girl-of-the-week when we used to share a bedroom, I know what sex is supposed to look like. And it's not like I haven't fantasized about it either. I sneak a glance at Katniss' hooded eyes, full bottom lip, and the curves accentuated by that dress, and I quickly have to look at Effie again before I sport wood onstage in front of the entire district.

None of that prepares me, though, for the fact that I will be losing my virginity  _on television_ , and anyone who's watched the Games knows that virgin sex is the most awkward, head-bumping, tripping-over-limbs, short-lasting experience in the world. It's almost painful to watch, and in less than a week, it will be happening to  _me_.

My second worry is a little more vague. What did Haymitch mean by 'before they take it all away from you?' I've never thought about Haymitch having sex, and frankly, it's not a mental image I want to call to mind. But I can't help but wonder; did they do something to him so that he can't have sex anymore? Do they do that to all Singles? Is that why he drinks, or why Finnick has allegedly tried to kill himself?

The trumpets playing the anthem of Panem bring me back to reality, and I turn and follow Effie's instructions to shake hands with all my fellow tributes. I squeeze Katniss' hand a little too tightly as we shake, and I try to play it off as a nervous spasm.

We are then escorted offstage by Effie and some Peacekeepers into a large car that seats all five of us, plus Effie and a driver in the front. I've never been in a car before, but I barely get to appreciate the experience on the short ride to the train station, where reporters with brightly lit video cameras wait to catch a glimpse of us.

"Stay in the car," Effie instructs us, and then opens her door and graces the reporters with her presence. She makes a big show of straightening her pink skirt and blazer, and poses for the cameras in a million different ways. And the reporters just eat it all up, shouting for 'more, more!'

"Oh gah, would you look at her?" Cooley points out the window. "What a self-centered, Capitol bitch."

"Seriously," Dynah agrees, and Cecilia nods her head. Katniss remains silent, as do I.

As soon as Effie finishes feeding her ego, she opens the door and gestures for us to exit the car. One by one, we file out and step onto the stairs of the train that will take us to the Capitol. Effie instructs us to turn so that the reporters can get a shot of all of us together on the stairs, and reminds us, "All smiles, everyone! Even you, Katnick!"

I bend down and whisper to Effie, "It's Katniss."

"Oh, whatever," she replies, brushing me off and striking another pose for the cameras.


	3. The Train

"Here are the doors to your chambers. In chamber 1 is Everdeen, Frazier is in 2, Hammond, woah—!" Effie wails as the train takes off, losing her balance for a moment. The rest of us practically fall over backwards, and Cecilia is actually knocked to the ground. Dynah helps her up as Effie says dismissively, "Never mind the speed of the train, you'll get used to it! Now, where were we… ah yes! As I was saying, Hammond is chamber 3, and then we have Mellark in 4, and Morris is in 5. You'll find everything you need in your chambers, including clothes and toiletries. No need to use those vile products from District 12 anymore!"

Thankfully, no one is stupid enough to indulge her humor. We know District 12 is a crappy district, but it's  _our_  crappy district.

Effie clears her throat, checking the agenda on her bedazzled clipboard. "Yes, well, please feel free to do anything you like and wear anything you like—everything is at your disposal. Just be ready for supper in an hour, and be ready to disembark from the train at 10pm. If it influences your clothing choices for the evening, the Capitol is holding a welcome mixer for all the tributes tonight. Won't that be fun?"

Dynah raises her hand like we're in school and asks, "What's a mixer?"

Trying to hide her shock and horror, Effie answers, "Surely you know what a mixer is! Come now. Drinking, dancing… a time to  _mix_ … and mingle… with other tributes…" Apparently none of us get it, and as Effie covers her face with her hands, I can swear I hear her say under her breath, "Gah, I need to be promoted to a better district!" She recomposes herself and smiles sweetly at us, patting Dynah on the head and instructing, "Just wear something festive, dears. Now, go on to your rooms!"

We scatter quickly, and I find that my chamber, which includes a bedroom, dressing area, and a private bathroom, is the most lavish place I have ever stayed. Everything looks and feels so rich, and even smells fresh and clean and sweet. My senses are overwhelmed, and all I can manage to do after such a tiring day is lay down on the softest bed in the world and close my eyes.

This is heavenly. I can't think of how it could get any better than this.

The image of Katniss in her blue dress flashes through my mind, and suddenly I realize that it could get much,  _much_  better.

I sink further into the plush mattress and undo the button and zipper of my pants. Was it only this morning that I was interrupted from my wet dream by my brother? It seems like ages ago. Now Katniss and I are riding in the lap of luxury, on a train headed to the Capitol.

I think about how much has changed in the last twelve hours, and how Katniss may now be seriously considering her options. Maybe she'll realize soon that my failed attempt today was proof of something I thought had been transparent for years: that I am hopelessly and completely in love with her, and that I'll be the only man who will really appreciate and respect her. All of her.

Maybe she'll even realize it on the train…

As I picture it, I can feel myself grow hard in my hand: she sneaks into my chamber as I rest, and is so good at staying silent that I don't notice her until she's climbing up onto the bed. I open my eyes and see her sitting on her knees, a shy smile on her beautiful face.

"I've been thinking, Peeta," she says in a soft voice as she continues to crawl toward me. "I've been so silly. I should've noticed all those longing looks you've given me over the years…" She unbuttons the top of her dress and exposes her breasts, encased in a simple white bra. "The way you came looking for me today…" She unties the bow around her waist and her dress slips down further. "And of course, the way you saved my life when we were young." She steps out of the dress effortlessly and sits on display for me in only her bra and panties. She unclasps the bra and throws it aside as she tells me, "I think I knew then how much you loved me, but I was scared. I'm not scared anymore, Peeta."

My eyes rake over her taut body and salacious curves, and I whisper, "No… No need to be scared." I rip off my shirt and pull her to me, so we're both on our knees with our bodies pressed together and our mouths frantic to find one another. She is so warm and soft, and as our tongues dance around one another, tasting each other for the first time, my hand finds her right breast, and I knead it tenderly as if I'm kneading dough. She gasps in pleasure and throws her head back, exposing her sensitive collarbone. I pepper kisses all around her chest and neck, and her breathing grows heavy as I work my way back to her mouth.

She looks frenzied as she tugs my pants down, and I take hold of her firm ass and pull her toward me, both of us desperate to touch each other. We fall back onto the bed and kick the rest of our clothes off, and I pull back and take a moment to finally look at all of her for the first time. A beautiful blush spreads through her face and torso as I take her in, admiring her dark, dusky nipples and the downy curls that protect her most sensitive flesh.

"You are perfection," I tell her softly as I lean in and kiss her. She smiles at me and pulls me on top of her, and as I press my weight down on her, she lets out a loud moan. I must be pressing on that little bundle of nerves that Phyl told me was the key to being good in bed.

I move my hips and grind against her, and she yells, unrestrained, "Oh,  _Peeta!_  That feels  _amazing_ …"

Spurred on by her praise, I take two of my fingers and slide them around her entrance. She is so wet already, and she bucks her hips up to tell me with her body that she wants this. I slide my fingers into her and can feel her contract around me, and it makes me ache with the need to bury myself inside her. I pump my fingers a few times—in and out, in and out— as I feel and see her losing control with every stroke.

"Katniss," I whisper, a prayer on my lips, "I want to be inside you. I want that so badly, but if you don't—"

She shuts me up by kissing me fiercely, and then grabs my length firmly and places my head at her entrance. I slowly fill her, and she gasps and tenses up at first, but as I continue inward she relaxes and our eyes lock together. The look on her face—surprise, excitement, pleasure—takes my breath away. I lean in and place a soft kiss on her lips, letting her know that I'll be there for her, always, and I start to move. With every thrust, Katniss wriggles in ecstasy and whimpers my name, and it's all just too much—

I lose myself inside her as her walls tighten around me, and I wrap my arms around her securely, hoping our bodies will fuse into one and I'll never have to leave her.

I open my eyes, and find myself alone in my chamber with my pants kicked to the floor and come all over my shirt. I guess I will have to change after all.

Being careful to not get any mess on the bed, I take my shirt off and ball it up. I toss it and my pants into the hamper in the dressing room, and make my way to the bathroom for a quick shower. The water is not just warm, it's  _hot_ , and it feels so refreshing to stand under the hot stream of water that for the first few minutes I just close my eyes and lose myself. I know I don't have too much time before supper though, so once I've enjoyed the novelty of a hot shower long enough, I scrub up quickly.

After I've dried off, I brush my teeth with the fancy Capitol mint paste, and use a gel-like stick called "deodorant" for my underarms, and I am astounded by how nice I smell. I wonder if Katniss will be able to notice it…

I sigh to myself. That was—what—ten minutes without thinking of her? It must be a new record.

The drawers in my dressing area are filled with nice clothes, but I decide not to go too crazy and put on a pair of dark jeans, a black t-shirt, and a black and maroon striped button down shirt. I find some black socks and shoes and take a look in the mirror, and I find that I actually look pretty good. It's strange that even though I'm in jeans, I feel much dressier than I did in my Reaping clothes.

I practice winking in the mirror a few times, and then I realize how ridiculous I look. Katniss will not be won over by a  _wink_ , of all things.

I walk down the corridor past the other tributes' chambers and into the dining car, where Effie, Cooley, and Cecilia are already seated. I politely say hello to them and take a seat next to Cecilia. There is a beautiful spread of food on the table, but no one is eating. We must be waiting for everyone else to join us.

Katniss and Dynah arrive shortly after me, and I immediately get the sense that Dynah has been chattering away on the entire walk to the dining car. By the look on her face, I'd say Katniss is ready to flay her alive.

"And so I wouldn't really mind District 8 either, considering my older brother apprenticed at the tailor's and taught me how to handle a needle and thread," Dynah prattles on as she sits next to Cooley. Katniss considers her options of empty seats at the table and silently sits in the chair next to me.

See? She's already picking me, even if it's just to sit next to during dinner.

"Dynah, you're talking about these things like you have the most say in the matter," Cooley comments as the first course is served. "What about the DNA match? Or the skills tests? Or who the Gamemakers determine is best for you? Or who your sponsors want you to be paired with?"

"Speaking of which, where is Haymitch?" Cecilia asks in between spoonfuls of carrot soup.

Effie waves her hand apathetically. "I believe he's still resting, and I do not blame him. It has been an exhausting day, hasn't it?"

Something in her tone tells me she's glad to not have his drunken antics at the dinner table, and none of us disagree with her.

After the soup comes a green salad, followed by lamb chops and mashed potatoes, then cheese and fruit, and finally a chocolate cake. Everything is so rich with flavor, and after every course Effie makes sure to remind us to save room because there is more to come. I feel filled to the brim by the end of the meal, and barely touch the large piece of cake set in front of me. I feel almost disappointed not to eat it; as a baker's son, I feel like I have a professional's palette and can appreciate all the subtle flavors in baked goods.

The cake is probably delicious, but I'm sure I'll explode if I eat another bite. If they eat this way in the Capitol every day, I don't know how they manage not to weigh five hundred pounds.

I look around the table and find that almost everyone else is looking as green as I feel. Only Effie, who excused herself in between courses and was gone for fifteen minutes, still looks ravenous.

I can't help but think of starving children in the Seam and all of Effie's regurgitated, half-digested food, gone to waste. How disgusting.

"Let's retire to the sitting room to watch the Reapings of the rest of the districts," Effie suggests as she scrapes the last bite of cake off her plate. "That way you'll be able to see if anyone catches your eye before you actually meet them."

Everyone knows that even though she made it sound like an invitation, it's mandatory, so we file into another compartment and gather around a large, flat-screen television. I inadvertently end up sitting near Dynah and Cooley, so Katniss, therefore, tries to sit as far away from us as humanly possible.

Cockblockers.

A recap of the Reapings comes on and we watch the faces of this year's tributes flash on the screen. It might seem surprising that Districts 1 and 2 would have so many tributes—they have four and five, respectively—but according to the announcers, this is a growing trend in those districts.

They call themselves "Career Tributes." They make it a point not to pair bond before the Reaping so that they can go into the Games and have lots of sex and fun, and then they pair bond with each other once they're in the arena. They get all of the benefits of the Games without any of the risks.

Once in a while a Career will pair bond with someone from a less privileged district, but the Gamemakers always choose to send the pair back to the Career's home district. About five years ago, pair like that was sent to District 7, and the female of the pair, a Career from District 1, threw a shit fit on television, making the Capitol look very bad. The head Gamemaker of that year was fired, and the Careers have all gotten to return home ever since.

I glance over at Katniss as the announcers talk about this phenomenon, and I wonder if she's thinking about Gale. That's what happened to him, after all.

No one is very notable, at least to me. I feel the worst for those who are the only ones representing their districts, who have essentially been rejected by every 18-year old they know. A fox-faced girl from District 5 stands on stage looking ashamed, a boy named Blight from District 7 appears sick to his stomach, and Silo, a tall boy from District 9, even has to wipe away a few tears from his face.

Our district turns out to have the most tributes, along with District 2. There are thirty-five tributes in all this year, seventeen boys and eighteen girls.

The announcers talk about what an  _exciting_  Games it will be this year, because one girl is ensured to either be killed or be granted Single status. I take a look around the room and find dread and determination on the faces of my fellow tributes, the ones who are really in danger.

Katniss, however, is the only one seeming to be without fear. She has that resolved look on her face again. Maybe she's considering sacrificing herself? But then she would never see her mother or sister again. Maybe she's going to get right in with one of those Careers from District 2, so she can go be with Gale…

I wish I knew what she was thinking! It used to be like a game for me to figure out what her different expressions meant, but now that it means the fate of the rest of my life, it's no longer fun anymore.

The Capitol then shows other highlights of the Reapings, including Haymitch's graceless tumble off the stage. We all have a good laugh about it, but Effie does not look pleased.

She harrumphs, "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior."

"He was drunk," I chuckle, remembering his foul breath as he clung to me for dear life. "He's drunk every year."

"Every day," Katniss adds with a smirk.

I smile to myself, and can't help but think that those are first words she's spoken all evening, and she spoke them to  _me!_  Well, actually, she spoke them to Effie, but in response to something  _I said!_  The girls all giggle at Katniss' comment, and she and I make eye contact for the shortest of moments as she glances around the group.

Maybe she's noticed me after all.

"Yes," Effie hisses, irritated by the joke, "how odd you all find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. For you young ladies, Haymitch can well be the difference between life and death!"

The girls' expressions have fallen into something resembling horror, and they become even more panicked when Haymitch himself stagers in and mumbles, "I misssssupper?" before retching bile onto the plush carpet and then falling into the mess.

"So laugh away!" Effie cackles haughtily. Clipboard in hand, she skips around the lump of a man on the ground and is halfway out the door before turning back and informing us, "We disembark in one hour!"

It only takes a second for us to figure out that we should be the ones to help Haymitch clean himself up.

"Not it!" cries Dynah, and puts a finger to her nose. The rest of us quickly follow her lead, and then the arguments ensue.

"Cecilia and Katniss should do it," Cooley reasons. "You girls from the Seam are going to need much more help from him than Dynah and I will."

"No way!" Cecilia contends, pointing a finger at Cooley. "I know your mother enjoys the white liquor just as much as Haymitch, so I'm sure you're used to cleaning up puke."

Cooley fumes and shouts, "Don't you bring my mother into this!"

"Besides," Cecilia continues, "I'm so puny and short, I don't think I could lift him. The rest of you all at least have some muscle."

"There is no way I'm touching him," Dynah declares. "And let's not forget, I said 'not it' first!"

"I doubt that 'not it' would hold up in a court of law," Katniss comments.

"What about Peeta?" Cooley offers, and all the girls turn to look at me. By the looks on their faces, it seems as though they like this idea.

"Yeah," Cecilia agrees. "He's kind of… impartial. We know he's guaranteed to pair up with someone, so there's no favoritism…"

Shit, the girls have ganged up on me! There's no way I'm getting out of this one, so I start to bargain with them.

"Fine," I sigh, and then implore to them, "but there's no way I can carry him back to his chambers all by myself." The argument begins again as I walk over to examine Haymitch's condition. He's got a pulse and has shallow breathing, and most of the bile ended up on his shirt. His chamber is, luckily, only two compartments away, so it should be easy enough to get him there, clean him up, and hopefully sober him up before we arrive at the Capitol.

I hear a cheer come from the girls' direction, and see Katniss rise reluctantly from her seat and make her way toward me. She stares down at Haymitch and tells me, "We drew straws."

I smile up at her and am suddenly very happy that I get to clean the vomit off this drunk man.

Wordlessly, we grab Haymitch by the arms and stand him upright, and thankfully he comes to. "I tripped?" he asks, then comments, "Smells bad." He almost falls again, but we catch him and drag him through the compartments to his chamber. We're halfway through the door when he becomes dead weight.

"Where can we put him?" Katniss asks, straining to keep him upright while also straining to keep his vomit away from her.

"Um…" I quickly consider my choices. "The bathroom?"

"Sounds good to me."

We practically roll him into the large tub, and I turn the shower on him. He doesn't budge, and I can see the disgust in Katniss' eyes. I don't want her to have to witness any more of this, and so I turn to dismiss her.

"It's okay," I say with a kind smile. "I'll take it from here."

She looks relieved, but a hint of confusion flashes in her eyes. "All right," she concedes, "I can send one of the Capitol people to help you."

"No. I don't want them," I tell her. They may be servants, but to make them deal with Haymitch would just be cruel. Katniss gives me a nod and starts to leave when I realize that this may be my only chance to win her over before the Games really begin. And after the day I had today, I am not letting another opportunity slip away from me. "Um, Katniss—" I call out, and rush to the bedroom. I see her turn and drop her hand from the doorknob.

"Yes?" she asks anxiously. Maybe she thinks I changed my mind and that I want her help with Haymitch.

"I just, um…" I stumble over my words as I consider the argument I'm about to make. "I just want you to remember that, out of all the guys in the Games, I'm the only one who knows you hunt outside the fence."

She suddenly looks furious. "Are you  _blackmailing_  me?" she questions, stalking toward me.

"No! Oh, no! No, absolutely not," I explain feverishly and back up into the wall as she keeps coming toward me, fire burning in her eyes. "I just mean that, I, um, I like that about you. I like that you're so fearless and defiant. And kind, too. I think you feed everyone in town with your kills."

"You… like that," she says in disbelief.

I look down at my shoes, unable to say this next part directly to her. I can feel my face getting hotter with each passing second as I realize I can no longer hide my true feelings from her. "Well… yeah," I admit, "I pretty much like everything about you, Katniss."

A beat passes, and I look up to find her staring off into the corner of the room, clearly pondering what I've said and if she can trust my word.

"And that's why you wanted to find me earlier today," she states as a fact more than a question, like she's piecing it all together.

"Yeah."

She sighs and looks up at me, and for the first time, she appears to be a little frightened. "I've… got to go," she tells me, and then quickly leaves the room.

Why is she always doing this to me?

I hear Haymitch groan from inside the bathroom, and so I steel myself to return to my drunken mentor and help him clean himself up.


	4. The Gamemakers, Part 1

It's a miracle I get Haymitch looking presentable. When I go back into the bathroom after Katniss leaves, he is flopping around in the tub, attempting to pull his shirt off over his head. Considering he is wearing a shirt buttoned all the way up to his neck, it isn't working whatsoever. I help him stand up and undo a few buttons for him, and he manages to wriggle out of the thing eventually.

But once he's standing there shirtless, drunk, and soaking wet from the shower, I learn that he is also a bit of a homophobe.

"Aurgggh! Ged outta here, you fag pastry boy! You don' wanna see this!" he bellows, throwing his wet shirt at me and pushing me out the door. I throw the shirt in his hamper and head towards the door. I figure there is no need to stick around if he doesn't want my help, until I hear the loud smack of his body hitting the bottom of the tub, followed by a,  _"Fucking hell!"_

I run back to the bathroom as fast as I can, but find the door locked. "Haymitch, are you sure you're all right?" I ask through the door.

"Don' come in!" he shrieks like a little girl.

I sigh. I know it would be wrong to just leave him in the state he's in. "Look, I don't  _want_  to come in, but it sounds like you need help—"

"I don' need help! I'm fine! I justripped," Haymitch insists.

"Fine, but I'm staying with you until I see that you can get yourself dressed and ready," I tell him firmly, taking a seat on a nearby chair. "We have less than an hour until we arrive at the Capitol."

"Plffft," he blows a raspberry in response. "Those Capitol hacks ain't nuthin'!"

He turns off the shower and I can hear him staggering from the tub, to the sink, to the dressing area. I decide this will be my chance to ask him what had been on my mind since the Reaping.

"Haymitch," I call out to him, "What did you mean when you said, 'before they take it all away from you?'"

"I said wha now?" he asks as he comes out of the dressing area with his shirt half tucked in his pants. He appears to be more sobered up, but maybe it's just because he's clean.

"You told me to um… to have as much sex as I could before it was all taken away from me. What did you mean by that?"

Haymitch straightens himself out in the mirror, only half listening to me. "Kid, your fate is in the Gamemakers' hands now. Odds are you'll get stuck with someone you don't even like, be forced to get it up for her, and then face a future of eternal despair and regret. And that's not even if you become a Single like me!" He laughs heartily at his misery, and it frightens me to the very core.

"Well…" I desperately search for a silver lining.  _Any_  silver lining. "I won't become a Single. There are more girls than boys this year."

"Ha! Like that makes a difference. Get a couple dykes in the arena and suddenly the odds are  _not_  in your favor," he explains as he walks over to his suitcase and pulls out a small flask. He takes a long pull and says, "Here's some advice. Stay alive, by any means necessary. That means planting that seed of yours in a lot of women's… hearts."

"But doing that before we get into the arena is against the rules."

"Eh, it's a fine line, and it's subject to the Gamemakers' feelings about the situation. You've seen what tributes get away with." He winks at me and tucks his flask in his jacket pocket. "Not to mention, this is the last chance you'll ever have to have some fun. So, enjoy yourself out there."

And then, he stumbles out of his room, leaving me reeling.

What if it's as hopeless as he says it is, and my chance to be with Katniss has already been taken from me? What if I do end up with someone I can barely tolerate, or worse, end up lonely and miserable like him?

Effie finds me here, still sitting in that chair pondering those questions, a long while later.

"Peeta, dear, are you all right?" she asks as she steps gingerly into the room. "Where's Haymitch?"

"He left. I helped him get dressed," I tell her, and she practically melts.

"Aww, Peeta. It was so  _good_  of you to take care of that poor, degenerate man," she coos, tilting her head to the side and putting a hand on my shoulder. "You will make a good husband for sure. But right now it's time to gather everyone to disembark." She turns and waves her hand toward the door, instructing, "Come, come! Let's not dally."

I pull myself out of the chair and grudgingly follow her toward my seemingly hopeless future.

The moment I see Katniss, though—her hair in a long braid down her back and in a pair of jeans that hug her curves so perfectly— I remember that I'm going into these games with a plan, and that I've already started to implement it. I catch Katniss' eye, and her look lingers on me for a moment before breaking her gaze.

Yeah, my confession has definitely made her notice me.

Suddenly, bright lights stream through the compartment. I squint out the windows and take my first look at Panem's crown jewel, the Capitol. Everything is electrified and illuminated in the night, and the streets are bustling with people donned in wild outfits, with hair and skin dyed crazy colors. Many recognize our tribute train and begin waving enthusiastically, and I wave back at a few of them.

Who knows? One of them may be rich and want to help me in my quest.

We then disappear underground and pull into a brightly lit station.

"Here we are!" Effie feels the need to announce, although clearly this is our stop. Past the train doors, I can see a young man with an intricately trimmed beard, standing expectantly with his hands behind his back. The doors open and Effie steps out first, greeting the man. "Seneca! You are a sight for sore eyes. I get so homesick, I wish I was assigned to a closer district."

"You have these tributes make me look good, and perhaps you will be," he responds, kissing her hand politely. "Five this year, eh?"

"I know!" she exclaims. "Allow me to introduce you to them. Come, dears!" She motions for us to join her on the platform, and one by one we step off the train. "May I present District 12's tributes: Dynah Morris, Cecilia Frazier, Peeta Mellark, Cooley Hammond, and Katniss Everdeen."

The man named Seneca looks us over with a keen eye. "Welcome to the Capitol, District 12 tributes. I hope your journey was a pleasant one. I am Seneca Crane, this year's head Gamemaker, and I'd like to be the first to tell you that this year's Games are going to be a little different. We're updating the format of the program, starting with tonight. I'm sure Effie has told you about the gathering that we've prepared for you this evening, and what we're hoping to accomplish, with that and with the other changes we've made, is a little more socialization between the districts. We want you tributes to feel comfortable with each other, so that in the arena you can be a little more… candid."

He smirks wickedly, and it makes me wonder if he's suggesting what Haymitch was suggesting to me earlier.

As quickly as the grin appears, it's gone in a flash. He continues, "However, you must all remember that this is first and foremost a competition, with rules and guidelines. And so to help set the appropriate tone, I'd like you all to accompany me to the training room before we dismiss you for the evening. Follow me."

He turns and starts walking down a large corridor, and Effie eagerly motions for us to follow him. I look around at the girls, and all of them look as confused as I feel.

We walk in Seneca's shadow for several twists and turns in the hallway, until we come to a set of double doors with couches placed against the walls on either side. Effie urges us to take a seat as Seneca disappears through the doors.

"What do you suppose this is?" Cecilia asks no one in particular.

"You'll be meeting the Gamemakers," Effie answers her as she makes notes on her clipboard. "Katniss, you're first."

Katniss rises, squares her shoulders, and makes her way through the double doors, a determined look on her face.

And then, there is nothing to do but wait. I lean back into the couch and lay my head back, wondering why Gamemakers need to address us one by one. It's these parts of the Games that I'm the most anxious about, the parts they don't show on television every year. And now, with these changes Seneca told us about, I don't know what to expect from any of it. How can I strategize? How can I keep moving forward with my plan?

The loud slam of the door shocks me back to reality, and I see Katniss rush past me, her face contorted into something resembling pain and anger.

"Katniss, dear!" Effie calls after her, but she doesn't turn back.

I stand and hear myself say, "I'll go get her."

"Thank you, Peeta. You're a good boy," Effie says and smiles at me. Apparently I've developed a reputation with her after that Haymitch thing.

I take off and head around the corner where I saw Katniss run, and find her leaning against the wall, her face buried in her arms.

"Katniss?" I ask and cautiously approach her.

She exhales and tells me forcefully, "Go away, Peeta."

"No," I respond, frustrated that she's always either running away or trying to push me away. "Tell me what's wrong. You can trust me."

"Ugh, I know that, I just—" she stammers as she pushes off the wall and starts pacing back and forth, her gaze alternating between the floor and me. "This is just not how I pictured this going. I mean, I thought about how I would handle this, and it's all just gone to shit—" She lets out a shaky breath and collapses against the wall, sliding down into a sitting position.

Cautiously, I take a seat next to her and tell her, "To be fair, I don't think any of us could've planned for this."

"No, you haven't been in there," she argues, shaking her head defiantly. "They said… Ugh, no. Never mind."

"Katniss, just talk to me," I plead with her. "Look, I know you don't really talk to anyone back home, but in these Games you may need someone to vent to… I want to be that person."

She takes a good long look at me then, and I can tell she's trying to make up her mind about if she actually wants to open up to me. After a beat, she sighs and squeezes her eyes shut, finally telling me what's wrong:

"I told them I wanted to be a Single because I wouldn't love anyone more than I love my mother and Prim, and they all agreed that… that they had the next Johanna Mason on their hands."

My eyes widen in shock. Johanna Mason has the worst of the rumored Singles stories. Johanna certainly seemed friendly enough with potential mates throughout the Games, but when she got into the arena she avoided everyone. Turns out, she wanted to be a Single, and they granted her that status because she had such sex appeal. She was allowed to return to her home district, District 7, but when she got there she found out that her entire family had died in a "house fire." The rumor is that she completely lost her mind once she found out everyone she loved was gone, and now spends her days in a padded cell somewhere in the Capitol.

"I don't know what I'm going to do now," Katniss continues, knocking her head against the concrete wall. "I didn't think I'd be endangering my family…"

As I think about the plan she'd had, I consider my own plans, and how I know nothing those Gamemakers say will deter me from them. "You know…" I lean in close and whisper, fearful that there are cameras and microphones taping us right now, "You don't have to be a piece in their Games. I don't plan on being one. I want to show them that they don't own me, and you can show them that too."

"But, they  _do_  own you," Katniss reasons, and hearing that coming from her mouth makes me suddenly very angry. "You  _are_  just a piece in their Games. All of us are. That's how the Games work—"

I lean in and silence her with a forceful kiss.

In a way, kissing her is everything like I expected it to feel. Her lips are soft and warm, and taste vaguely of the sweet fruit that I barely ate any of on the train. In another way, however, it's nothing like I thought it would be. I had always pictured our first kiss being more tender, and not in an effort to shut her up about how our lives are no longer our own.

It barely lasts a few seconds, but I try to savor every fleeting moment.

I pull back and see her open her eyes, shock over what just happened registering on her face.

Trying to keep my composure, I look her straight in the eye and whisper, "There. If the Capitol is watching us now, I've already proven to them that they don't own me. And… and I'm happy to keep proving it to them, if you want."

Katniss shakes her head in disbelief. "I… can't believe you just did that," she says, covering her mouth with her hands.

I smile to myself and can't help but think that she can't get over our kiss. "What, you've never been kissed before?" I ask nonchalantly.

"Just once before," she softly replies. "But that was… different."

My mind floods with questions. Who's kissed her before? Was it Gale? When did he kiss her? How was it different from what we just did? Was her kiss with me better or worse?

Before I can get any of these questions answered, Effie Trinket rounds the corner. "There you are! I was about to send Peacekeepers after you two," she says only half jokingly. "Peeta, it's your turn with the Gamemakers."

"Okay," I sigh, and stand up to leave.

Effie continues, "And Katniss, I am supposed to tell you that you're dismissed to the mixer for the night. It's back toward the training center, except you turn left at the next corner instead of right."

"All right." Katniss nods and rises. Effie escorts us to the fork in the road that she told us about, and then she and I part ways from Katniss as we head back to the training center. Katniss keeps her eyes downcast as she addresses me, "Bye, Peeta."

"Yeah," I smile at her, even though she can't look at me. "See you at the party, Katniss."


	5. The Gamemakers, Part 2

As Effie and I approach the training center, I notice Cecilia sitting on the couch sniffling. Cooley is next to her looking stunned, and Dynah sits on the other couch, petrified.

This should be fun.

I make my way through the doors and cross the empty training center floor to the raised platform. The Gamemakers sit at a long table on the edge of the platform, all in a row in a sort of tribunal, and they look ready to judge.

"Name," calls Seneca Crane, who sits in the middle of the tribunal.

"Um, Peeta Mellark," I tell them.

Seneca begins typing into the control panel that sits in front of him, and he frowns at what he sees.

"Mellark, eh?" he questions me, and I'm not sure if I'm supposed to answer. "Tell me, Mr. Mellark, is it sheer laziness that always leads your family to the Games? Or is it defiance?"

"I'm sorry?" I ask, genuinely confused by his question.

"You're the fifth Mellark to participate in these Games," he tells me, leaving me floored.

Is that really true?

He continues, "Your grandfather, Phyllo Mellark, participated in the 31st Mating Games, and told the Gamemakers that he had waited until the last minute before the Reaping to try and secure one of the 'desperate' females, a strategy that did not pay off for him. Your father, Bannock Mellark, was in the 52nd Mating Games. His excuse for the Gamemakers was that he had his eye on a girl but she had 'run off with a coal miner' before he could pair bond with her. Your aunt, then Torta Mellark, was in the 54th Mating Games, and stated that she 'expected men to pursue her' before the Reaping. And your cousin, Eclaire Anderson, Torta's daughter, just participated a few years ago, in the 72nd Mating Games. She told the Gamemakers that she wanted to pair with two different males and 'couldn't make up her mind between them,' so neither pair bonded with her and she ended up in the Reaping."

I can feel my mouth hanging open, but my brain can't seem to find a way to shut it. This is just too much information to process. Father was in the Games? And Grandfather? And an aunt and a cousin that I never knew I had?

"As for your mother, Noora Gibson's side, she is the only one of her close relatives to participate in the Games, but from what I gather, she was somewhat of a… a black sheep in her family."

The tribunal snickers at Seneca's comment, and I can feel my face burn in embarrassment. Suddenly my parents' marriage makes so much sense—why they aren't affectionate, why they never talk about their courtship, why my mother doesn't have any family in District 12—they're a product of the Games.

"So, tell me Peeta," Seneca sneers and leans toward me. "Can we expect the same old skills from you as we've seen from the rest of your family? The breads, and cakes, and cookies, and so on?"

The rest of the Gamemakers have lost it and are now rolling with laughter. One of them even shouts, "Which District needs a baker? Let's ship him off now!"

Seneca gestures for them to quiet down and then dons a more grave expression. "In all seriousness, Mr. Mellark, it speaks volumes that your family has participated in the Games so many times. There could be an inherent character flaw that will just not be bred out of your offspring, and it makes me wonder if you're fit to pair bond and produce children at all."

My legs feel as though they're about to give out on me in that moment. Is he really suggesting what I think he's suggesting?

"It will be up to you to prove us wrong, I suppose," he goes on. "Which brings me to this critical question: how did  _you_  end up in the Games?"

I quickly consider my choices. Either I can tell them everything about my love for Katniss, and hope that they will be sympathetic and encouraging—not likely—or tell them nothing and hope that the odds will be in my favor with the rest of the tests in the Games—also not likely.

I go for the third choice: I tell them the truth, but am vague about it.

"I was hoping to pair bond with a girl before the Reaping, but I didn't get to her in time."

"Oh, that's too bad," Seneca jeers sarcastically. "And she ended up with another man? Like father, like son, as they say."

"Not exactly," I tell them boldly, getting more and more irritated with them by the second. "She's here as well. I still intend to pair bond with her in the Games."

The Gamemakers all look astonished by my insolence, as if I told them I was going to sprout wings and fly out of here.

Seneca raises an eyebrow at me. "How… noble of you, Mr. Mellark. Unfortunately, it's not up to you at this point. You had your chance before the Reaping, and now it's our responsibility to pair you with someone who we see as fit, if we decide you are fit at all. And based on the attitude you've presented to us tonight, as well as your family history, your fitness is already in question." He bangs a gavel on the table, and warns me, "Proceed with caution, Mr. Mellark. You're dismissed."

I turn and walk as fast as I can to the door, needing to be as far away from those Gamemakers as possible. I burst through the door into the hallway and find that only Dynah and Effie are still there. Dynah takes one look at me and tears up.

"They even upset Peeta!" she cries. "I'm doomed for sure!"

"There, there," Effie consoles her. "You said yourself that you would be happy in any district. They like to hear that. It means you're adaptable."

"Where is everyone else," I practically growl at Effie rather than ask.

She waves me off as she continues to stroke Dynah's hair. "Oh, they're at the mixer. Just go 'round the corner and to the right, where we split from Katniss. Would you like me to fetch an Avox to guide you there?"

"No, I got it," I tell her, and take off in a run. I can feel the adrenaline coursing through me, as if my body knows I'll have to fight for my life soon. I turn the corner and find another set of double doors, this one guarded by a pair of Capitol people, all in red.

"Is this where I'm supposed to be?" I ask with an annoyed tone. The people in red say nothing, but they open the doors for me and my senses take in the spectacle in the room.

Vibrant lights flash in time with the pulsating music that makes everything quake. The room is small, and therefore is packed wall to wall with my fellow tributes. Some of them are sitting and talking, some of them are grinding against one another to the music, and some are even dancing on the tabletops. More people in red walk around serving colorful drinks to the tributes, and while some of them sip on the concoctions slowly, others pound them down in one gulp while still others cheer them on. I even spy a few couples already making out in dark corners of the tiny room.

So, this is a mixer.

My eyes fall on Katniss, who is sitting with three other girls, and I decide that even though I'm entirely too worn out from the day to deal with the insanity of this party, I have to at least go in and try to make some more progress with her. At this point, it's my only hope.

I catch her eye as I walk toward her, and she gives me the biggest smile I have ever seen on her face.

Something is wrong.

"Peeeeta!" she cheers and throws her arms around me as I sit down next to her. "You made it out of there alive!"

I chuckle, "Just barely."

"This is Rue, Annie, and Mags," she introduces me to her new friends, and they giggle and wave politely. Katniss continues, "Rue is from District 11, and Annie and Mags are from District 4."

"Nice to meet you," I tell them, and they all giggle again. Even Katniss giggles. Yes, something is  _very_  wrong.

"So you're from District 12 too, Peeta? What does your family do?" the girl with a dark complexion that Katniss called Rue, asks. She looks far too young to be eighteen years old in my opinion, but perhaps those in District 11 are just as malnourished as in 12.

"Um, we own the town bakery."

Mags, a short girl with cropped hair and glasses, gasps, "Oh, a merchant! I'm from a merchant family too. We make and sell bait and tackle, and other fishing supplies."

"Hoping there's a net at the Cornucopia to catch a mate with, Mags?" Annie, a frail girl with long dark hair and green eyes, elbows her in the ribs, and they all dissolve into a fit of giggles.

Just then a Capitol attendant approaches us and holds out a tray of blue drinks in short glasses.

"Ooh, more shots!" Rue squeals, and all the girls take a glass.

"Peeta, you've  _got_  to try these," Katniss orders and shoves a drink in my hand.

I watch as all the girls clink their glasses together and Annie toasts, "To new friends!"

They all tilt back their heads and swallow the shots, and I quickly follow their lead. The blue drink definitely has a sour taste that stings my throat as it goes down, but I can't put my finger on what flavor it's supposed to be. The again, maybe that's the point.

"Ew, too sour for me," Rue concludes.

"I liked it better than the last one," Mags argues, and Katniss enthusiastically nods her head in agreement. Then, inexplicably, she loses her balance and falls into me, laughing up a storm.

"Oh, sorry!" she shrieks, and the rest of the girls cackle at her. I grab her shoulders and help her sit straight up again, and she gives me a pat on the cheek. "Thank you Peeta. You're  _such_  a  _good_  guy."

She turns back to her friends, but I'm annoyed now. This isn't the Katniss I know, and I want some answers as to why she's doing this.

I tap her on the shoulder and ask her, "Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?"

Katniss looks at me quizzically and then glances back at the girls, who are hooting and hollering. She stands up and puts her hands on her hips, only looking slightly wobbly, and gestures for me to lead the way.

We walk to a corner of the room and I turn and question her, "What's gotten into you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, the Katniss I know doesn't giggle at everything like an idiot, doesn't hang around with vapid, shallow girls, doesn't drink anything that's handed to her."

Her expression turns serious. "Peeta, you don't know  _anything_. When I came in here, I was miserable, and Rue and Annie and Mags told me that they felt just as miserable. None of us want to be here, but there's nothing we can do, and so we should at least try to have some fun while we suffer through the Games. And yeah, I know I'm not a very fun person, but… I'm trying something new here, okay? I'm trying not to be Johanna Mason."

"You can be yourself and still not be Johanna Mason," I reply angrily.

"I know! I just—" she groans in frustration, then sighs, defeated. "You say I can trust you, but that's a hard thing for me to do with anyone. And since I'm already in your debt, I don't want to keep owing you for more and more, so let's—"

"Wait, you're in my debt?" I interrupt her, grabbing her arm so she can't just walk away. "Why are you in my debt?"

She looks down at her shoes, embarrassed. "No. It's nothing. Forget it."

I exhale in a huff, and ask her point blank, "You think you owe me for something?"

A beat passes before she answers. "I know I do."

"Then, I have a deal for you. Pay me back with your trust. I've been trying to convince you that you can trust me, so trust me. Trust me when I say that I will do everything I can to keep you happy, to keep your mother and sister alive. Trust me when I tell you that I'm going to show those Gamemakers that they don't own me by fighting for you with everything I have. Because you're everything to me, all I've ever wanted, all—"

My rambling tirade is cut off when Katniss roughly presses her lips to mine. It's frantic and short-lived, even more so than our kiss earlier was, but this time  _she_  initiated it, which is all that counts in my eyes.

She pulls back and stares at me, and breathing heavy, she tells me, "There. See? I trust you."

I gaze at her with an idiotic grin on my face, unable to speak at what just happened.

She kissed me. She trusts me.

The pounding music comes to an abrupt stop and harsh white lights flood the room. I glance over toward the door and find all the district escorts filing in, calling for their respective tributes to leave and follow them to their quarters.

Effie Trinket's voice is unmistakable.

"District 12! District 12! Please gather here to be taken to your quarters! Quickly, dears!"

I drop my hand and release Katniss' arm from my grip, and she gives me a small smile.

"Let's talk more tomorrow," she suggests, and I can't help but think about what she wants to talk to me about. Maybe she finally understands what I've been trying to tell her all damn day, and wants to tell me that now that she's noticed me, she has feelings for me. Maybe that's why she kissed me!

Then again, maybe she's going to let me down easy, tell me I should focus my attention on someone who I have more of a chance with in the Games.

"Sure," I agree to her proposition all the same, and we gather with the other District 12 girls near the door. Katniss waves goodbye to Annie, Mags, and Rue, who aren't giggling anymore now that the mood of the party has died.

I'm sure now the only thing on their minds is what's on mine: the Games have now officially begun.


	6. The Remake

Isn't it amazing how your entire life can change in a day? When the clock on the Justice Building chimed at noon just yesterday, I thought for sure I would never have a chance with Katniss, and yet, here I am, lingering on not just one, but the  _two_  kisses we shared last night. One that she even initiated!

I smile to myself and bury my face in my pillow, wanting to shout to the mountaintops about how happy her kiss made me. Even though I have no idea what it was supposed to mean, it gave me hope for what's to come in the days ahead. Hope that I actually can shape my own destiny in these Games, and that the girl I've been in love with for so long may actually soon be mine.

I adjust the dimmer on the windows and let the morning light shine into my room. The Capitol buildings glisten in the sunlight, and looking out at them makes me feel refreshed and rejuvenated, like nothing can go wrong—

"Up, up, up! It's going to be a big, big, big day!" Effie trills as she bursts into my room. "You're being presented to the Capitol and everyone in Panem tonight, and we need to get you to your prep team in one hour! Now, off to breakfast!"

Like a tornado of plastic and polyester, Effie is gone as fast as she came.

And with her goes all my confidence.

I sigh and drag myself out of bed as I remember that I am still a  _very_  long way away from the arena, and have to prove I'm even worthy of having  _anyone_ —let alone someone as exceptional as Katniss—to the Gamemakers.

I figure I just need to focus on one thing at a time, and right now, I'll focus on breakfast. I search through my closet and find a robe to throw over my pajamas—because if the rumors are true, actually getting dressed for the day will be pointless if I have a team of stylists—and pad down the hallway to the dining room.

Haymitch is there with the girls, who apparently all felt the same way I did, because they are all in their robes as well, their hair matted and tangled from sleep. I try to smile at Katniss as I sit down across the table from her, but she doesn't look up; she just yawns.

We all begin to eat in silence, because without Effie to move the conversation along, we really don't have much to say to each other. Besides the fact that we're all from the same district, none of us are really  _friends_ , and so there's not much to talk about besides the Games. Plus, we're all tired, and a few of us are hung over. I'm not sure what time it is now, or when I got to bed last night, but I feel as though I didn't get nearly enough sleep.

A Capitol servant dressed in red places a steaming cup at each of our places, and when I inspect it I find that it isn't tea and doesn't smell like coffee. I gingerly take a sip, and cannot hold back the hum of satisfaction as the sweet liquid warms me.

It tastes like rich chocolate, richer than any of the chocolate I've tasted at the bakery.

"What is it?" Cecilia asks, and I look around to find that all the girls are gauging my reaction to the strange drink.

"It's hot chocolate," Haymitch remarks in between bites of egg and sausage.

"It's good," I tell them with a grin, and immediately they pick up their cups and take a drink. Suddenly there is conversation again, all about the delicious beverage.

Katniss, however, continues to drain her cup of hot chocolate like she is dying of thirst. Watching her greedily drink her fill of the rich Capitol creation is so primal and uninhibited, I feel myself getting hard at the sight of it.

And when she sets her cup down and licks the excess chocolate from her lips, I almost lose it right there at the table.

She must have no idea how sexy she is.

The Capitol woman in red pours her another cup, but when she turns to thank her, something strange happens.

"Oh, thank you so—oh! I know you!" she exclaims, and everyone turns to look at her quizzically.

"Don't be ridiculous, Katniss. How could you possibly know an Avox?" Effie inquires as she leads two well-dressed Capitol people into the dining room.

Katniss asks, "What's an Avox?"

"Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak," Haymitch tells us with his mouth full. "She's probably a traitor of some sort. Not likely you'd know her."

Effie adds with an arrogant tone, "And even if you did, you're not to speak to one of them unless it's to give an order." She laughs to herself, "Of course, you don't  _really_  know her."

"No, I guess not," Katniss concedes, looking perplexed. She's a terrible liar, and I feel like I have to corroborate her story to save her ass. "I just—"

"Delly Cartwright," I snap my fingers and interrupt her before she digs herself an even deeper grave. "That's who it is. I kept thinking she looked familiar as well. Then I realized she's a dead ringer for Delly."

My mind drifts for a brief moment to Delly and Roman, who are probably being assigned new living quarters together and getting their job assignments. I wonder if Roman will be an apprentice to Delly's father…

I wonder what they'll think when they see me tonight at the opening ceremonies.

Katniss looks around at the other girls—Cooley, who has lost interest and gone back to peeling the rind off an orange, Cecilia, who is stuffing her face with pancakes, and Dynah, who is glancing indifferently at the many servers to see which one we meant—and she realizes that we could get away with this deception.

"Of course," Katniss agrees as she takes another sip of hot chocolate. "That's who I was thinking of. It must be the hair."

"Something about the eyes too," I add with a grin.

"Well now that that's settled," Effie says, calling our attention back to our guests, "I would like you to meet the official District 12 stylists: this is Portia and Cinna."

The man nods his head to us as the woman elaborates, "Cinna and I are so excited to be working with you all. We have some big plans for your debut, but right now we need to get you to the Remake Center."

"No need to change," Cinna tells us. "Once you've been prepped, you'll be put into your costumes for the opening ceremonies. Follow us."

"Come along, dears!" Effie instructs us, and we wordlessly get out of our seats and follow our stylists to the elevator. Once we're all inside, Cinna pushes the button for the basement.

I can't help but think to myself that there must be an entire network of underground hallways and hidden rooms down there. How anyone keeps their sense of direction is beyond me.

We reach the basement in no time and file out, and as we walk down the hall, I can hear Katniss say to Cinna, "So they gave you District 12."

"We asked for District 12," he replies. "Portia and I specialize in synthetics, and we've come up with something special to reflect the… flavor of your district. You're not afraid of fire, are you?"

He smirks at her and her eyes widen in fear.

We come to a fork in the hallway and Portia veers me off in the opposite direction of the girls and Cinna.

"Men are in this room," she explains, and pushes through the double doors into what looks like a laboratory. We pass by several curtained off areas where I can hear my fellow male tributes being prepped, and Portia tells me, "Cinna and I have designed costumes for you and the female tributes that are complimentary. Is that all right with you?"

"Sure," I shrug, and Portia gives me an encouraging smile.

When we finally arrive at our station, the last one in the row, my own prep team descends upon me.

"Is this him?"

"Oh, what a cutie!"

"Look at those blond locks! They could use a few highlights!"

"Forget that, his knuckles need a wax!"

Portia holds up her hands to silence them and says, "First things first." She walks over to a cart, picks up a small, empty jar, and hands it to me.

For a moment I wonder if this is some kind of Capitol test, like I'm suppose to figure out what's in the jar or something. Then I think, maybe it's a trick they play on us to convince us how stupid we really are in District 12.

Then Portia clears her throat and tells me, "Fill it up." She points to a door against the wall of my prep station, and I become even more confused.

"With what?" I ask.

The prep team giggles at me, and I start to think my theory that this is all a big joke is suddenly more plausible.

"Peeta, I'm going to be upfront with you," Portia tells me as she leads me to the door. She opens it and reveals a small room with an easy chair and magazines strewn all over the place. "The Gamemakers want a sperm count."

She shoves me inside and closes the door, leaving me in what I now realize to be the most uncomfortable place I will ever be in to jerk off.

I take a moment to look around the tiny room. Next to the easy chair is a bottle of lotion, and against the wall is a small sink with a stack of hand towels next to it. A small fan hums above me, likely there to mask any noise I might make. I pick up one of the magazines and find that it's filled with lewd images of scary looking, naked Capitol people performing sex acts on each other.

Yep, this is definitely the winner for the most uncomfortable jerk off place.

I flop down into the easy chair and find that it is surprisingly quite comfortable, and as I sink into it and sigh, I stare at the container in my hand. How am I going to do this? There is nothing in here that will turn my crank enough to make me spill my load into this jar.

Am I disqualified if I can't do this?

Suddenly, a page in one of the magazines catches my eye of a woman with long, auburn hair and relatively normal makeup. She herself isn't that pretty, but she reminds me enough of someone who is…

I think again about how Katniss licked her lips so unintentionally seductively earlier this morning. I close my eyes to picture it better, and undo the drawstring of my pajamas.

I replay the scene again and again in my mind, and as I picture it over and over, the scene starts to change. Katniss is no longer licking hot chocolate from her lips; instead she's lapping up my come from the corners of her mouth. She groans in ecstasy as she tastes me, and tells me, "You're even better than hot chocolate."

The images change again as my mind runs away with me. All at once Katniss has her mouth on me, her soft lips moving up and down my length. She hums into me and makes me tremble all over, and then pulls back as I splatter her face and chest with my come. She doesn't mind it either; she even rubs it on her breasts like she's lathering up. She wipes a bit off her chest with her fingers and puts them deep into her mouth, letting out a low hum of pleasure. She looks deep into my eyes and whispers to me, "I'd be happy eating you for the rest of my life."

That does it for me and I shudder as I spill my seed into the jar.

Catching my breath, I cap the jar, wipe up quickly, and wash my hands, suddenly feeling weird to be in this little room made specifically for doing what I just did.

I need to get out of there as fast as possible.

I silently exit the room and find Portia with my prep team huddled around her.

"Ah, there he is! Nice and quick, weren't you?" she comments as she takes the jar and puts a label on it.

What's 'nice and quick' supposed to mean?

She places the jar back on the cart and then instructs my prep team, "Strip him and scrub him down. I want hair from his feet, knuckles, ears, nose, and back, gone. I want his eyebrows and pubic hair trimmed and bleached, if necessary. Chest hair and armpit hair can stay; bleach those as necessary. He needs his teeth whitened; he needs highlights in his hair; he needs his nails trimmed and polished; he needs his entire body tanned and moisturized. Slick his hair back to make him look the way he did at the Reaping. Take his face to beauty base zero."

The prep team moves in and begins ripping the clothes off my body, and I brace myself for the pain I'm about to endure.

Portia tells me as they move me up to the sterile table, "It's a good thing you're already so muscular, or else we'd have to artificially beef you up. This will take no time at all!"

Five hours later, I am waxed, bleached, buffed, polished, tanned, and moisturized, and in a skin-tight black leather costume. Despite the fact that I'm worn out from having my body worked on for so long, I don't feel as bad as I thought I would. The moisturizer really helped with some of the burning from the wax and bleach. And the skin-tight leather isn't bad either; it's actually breathable and cool, and I can move in it.

The wonders of synthetic material.

"You look  _amazing_ ," Portia tells me, and my prep team vehemently agrees. "Let's get you to Cinna and Effie and the rest of the girls."

We walk back into the labyrinth hallways of the basement and end up in a large backstage area where all the tributes, their escorts, and stylists have all gathered. The stylists are making last minute touch ups and the escorts are all in a mass, talking at each other and making notes on their clipboards.

Portia and I approach Cinna, and my jaw drops in astonishment at the sight of my fellow tributes from District 12. All of them are in the same black leather material as I am, but whereas I am covered head to toe, their outfits are much more revealing. Cecilia is in a tight dress that is barely long enough to cover both her boobs and her ass, Dynah is wearing a short skirt and a cropped shirt that exposes her midriff and falls off her shoulders, and Cooley is in pants, but has basically a bra for a top. Their hair is intricately pinned up and makeup cakes their faces, and all of them are wearing five-inch high heels.

Portia takes the words out of my mouth and asks, "Where's Katniss?"

"We were having trouble with her outfit," Cinna explains. "She couldn't walk in the shoes, but I had an idea that I think will work just as well."

The district escorts disperse, and Effie comes rushing over to us, waving her clipboard frantically. "So sorry for the delay!" she shrieks. "We were trying to work out the logistics of this year's presentation. I honestly do not know if the Gamemakers thought through this change."

"No chariots?" Cooley asks as she discreetly picks a wedgie.

"Not this year, dear," Effie answers her. "Chariots are  _so_  last season. What's fresh and new this year is the catwalk."

Dynah raises her hand and asks, "What's a catwalk?"

"Each of you will walk up and down that catwalk—" Effie tells us, and points to a long runway with flashing lights going off all around it, "in order to show off your best assets to your fellow tributes, potential sponsors, and all the Capitol people. And all of Panem, really! Now remember, don't look down and don't forget to strike a pose at the end of the catwalk. Ah, here's our final tribute!"

I turn and stare as the succubus who I imagine used to be Katniss approaches us. She's dressed in a tiny tank top and the shortest shorts I've ever seen, with boots that go all the way up to the midpoint of her thighs, her hair piled in braids on her head, and eyes that look smoky and smoldering. I know I'm gawking, and that my mouth is hanging open, and that it will be very challenging to conceal a hard on in this costume, but I don't care, because it's the hottest I've ever seen her look and I'll be damned if I don't take in every second of it.

She turns and addresses Cinna, "Thanks for letting me wear the boots. They're much easier to walk in than the heels."

He smiles at her, "Of course. I think the boots work even better. You'll definitely make an impression in them. All of you will make an impression once we light you up."

"Time to get into formation!" Effie claps to get our attention. "Ladies, you'll be going first, so Peeta, please make your way to the audience. An attendant will show you to your seat."

Effie pushes me toward the exit and I escape through the curtain. It turns out we are in a giant stadium that is bustling with activity. A Capitol attendant directs me to my seat, which is next to a hulking boy from District 11.

"What's up, man? I'm Thresh," he says in a deep voice and holds out his hand to introduce himself. I grab his hand and he pulls me in and smacks me against the back. "That's how we do in District 11," he explains.

"Cool," I reply, not knowing what else to say.

"You seen any girls you wanna hit yet, bro?" he asks as he settles in to his seat, leaning back in the chair.

"Kind of," I tell him vaguely. "You?"

"Aw man, there's this shorty from District 2, Clove. She's kind of a bitch, but she is  _fine_."

"District 2?" I ask skeptically.

"I know, man," he responds. "It's a long shot, but she's my first pick. My safety is this chick from 8 named Twill. She has these gorgeous light brown eyes, and a tight little ass."

"Oh."

"You got a safety, homie?"

"No, not really," I divulge. "There's really only one girl here for me."

"Damn, that's ballsy," he remarks.

"You're telling me," I agree with him.

The lights suddenly dim and the music begins. It starts out with a short guitar solo, and then the bass kicks in and a female voice begins to sing:

_I'm feeling sexy and free,  
_ _Like glitter's raining on me,  
_ _You're like a shot of pure gold,  
_ _I think I'm 'bout to explode…_

The girls from District 1 start the show, and they are both literally covered in glitter and nothing else. Thresh elbows me in the side and whoops at them as they twirl around and strut to the music.

_Ooh ooh ooh ooh!_

_We can do this all night,  
_ _Damn this love is skintight,  
_ _Baby, come on!_

_Ooh ooh ooh ooh!_

_Boomin' like a bass drum,  
_ _Sparkin' up a rhythm,  
_ _Baby, come on!_

One by one, each girl comes out and swings her hips to the rhythm. Each district is represented in the costuming: the bodies of the girls from District 2 are painted to look like marble and granite, Annie and Mags from District 4 are draped in fish nets, and Thresh's "safety," Twill, and the other female from District 8 are decked out in multicolored ribbons.

_Ooh baby baby, got me feeling so right,  
_ _Ooh baby baby, dancing in the moonlight;  
_ _Ooh baby baby, got me feeling so right,  
_ _Ooh baby baby, dancing in the moonlight…_

Thresh points at a girl dressed in a skirt and top made of citrus fruits and identifies her as Seeder, a girl from his district who "no one would touch with a ten-foot pole." Next comes Rue, who I tell him I had met already, and he elbows me in the side and tells me I should pair bond with her because she's quiet and would make a good, obedient wife.

I don't bother to tell him that I'm not interested in an obedient wife.

The music crescendos and then drops off, and then seems to explode as a Katniss stalks out onto the runway, her outfit seemingly engulfed in flames.

_Rock my world until the sunlight,  
_ _Make this dream the best I've ever known,  
_ _Dirty dancing in the moonlight,  
_ _Take me down like I'm a domino!_

She doesn't strut like the other girls, and instead stomps down the runway, making the synthetic fire whip about in the wind violently. She has that resolved look on her face, the way she does when she knows she has to get something over with, but with her makeup it makes her look even more badass and powerful.

The crowds of Capitol citizens, who haven't been exactly quiet so far, completely lose their shit at the sight of fiery Katniss. The rest of the girls from District 12 follow closely behind her, all of their skimpy outfits ablaze, and then it's over. The audience applauds, the lights come up, and the district escorts and stylists are out of their seats and attending to the tributes.

Effie grabs me and pulls me up toward the backstage area.

"Wasn't that sensational?" she raves, "Certainly unorthodox, but riveting!"

We meet Cinna, Portia, and the girls, who have all been extinguished and are bouncing with excitement. Even Katniss has a smile on her face.

"Ladies," Effie gets the girls' attention, "there will be a fifteen minute intermission, and then you must take your seats for the men's turn on the catwalk. Then you will all be seated and President Snow will address the nation. Okay? Dismissed!"

I can't help but watch Katniss as she adjusts some hairpins on the back of her head, and I think to myself how beautiful she looks even when doing something so mundane.

I then realize that I still don't have an answer as to why she kissed me, and decide to take advantage of the short time we have. I tap her on the shoulder and she turns to look, and when she sees that it's me, a beautiful blush creeps over her face.

"Peeta, hi."

"Hey. Um, you looked incredible up there."

She sighs, "Thanks. Um, Peeta, I want to talk to you. Do you think we have time now?"

"We have at least fifteen minutes," I shrug in reply, trying to look nonchalant.

This is it!

She glances around and finds a corner that's further away from the chaos near the stage, then takes my hand and leads me there.

I don't have much time to freak out that her hand is in mine, because she drops it as soon as we reach the corner. Her gaze alternates between the ground and myself, and she finally tells me in a rush, "I've been thinking about what you said yesterday, and I have some questions, if that's all right."

"Okay," I agree.

She pauses as if to steady herself, and then inquires, "First… why me?"

"What?" I ask, confused.

"You said that you like me. That you…" her gaze falls to the ground, " _want_  me. Why?"

I laugh, "You don't see how that could be possible?"

"I've never really thought about it."

"Wow, you just have no idea, the effect you can have," I sigh in amazement.

"Look, this is all new to me. I've never tried to be sexy before," she states like she needs to defend herself.

"No, I, um, actually like that about you, that you care about much more than finding some silly boy to play house with." I put her hand back in mine and tell her, "I like that you have convictions, and you have the guts to live by those convictions. And, that you have a tremendous heart. When you care about something or someone, you care so deeply. Enough to… to suffer or die to protect them."

"Like… with my mother and Prim," she replies, smiling sadly.

"Yeah," I agree, and then I remember. "The first thing that attracted me to you was your confidence."

"My confidence?"

"Yeah. It was, um, when we were five."

She looks at me skeptically, "You were attracted to me when we were  _five_?"

"Well, not attracted in a sexual way, obviously. Let's call it…"

Unyielding devotion and love for you, I want to say, but then I think better than to come on that strong.

"An  _interest_. I took an interest in you on the first day of school. The teacher asked who knew the valley song, and you were the first one to raise your hand, and you stood right up and sang it in front of everyone. I don't know if you noticed it, but the birds even stopped singing to listen to your beautiful voice."

She smiles. "They used to say that about my father."

"It's true about you as well," I tell her genuinely.

Unsure about what to do with that compliment, she moves on with the inquisition. "Why did you never try to talk to me until the day of the Reaping?"

I exhale dejectedly. "I don't have any better answer other than the fact that I was scared. I was scared because you didn't seem to care about finding a mate, and so I thought you would reject me. I couldn't imagine the pain of being rejected by you, so I just… admired you from a distance… for a really long time. Plus, I think my mother would've killed me if she knew I was pursuing a girl from the Seam."

She bites back a laugh and informs me, "Peeta, I don't know if anyone's told you this before, but your mother's kind of a bitch."

"Hah! I'm well aware, actually," I tell her as I think about the shame I've already brought on my mother, and will surely bring her if I end up with Katniss anyway. "I think she would've beaten me with the yardstick even if we  _had_  pair bonded before the Reaping."

"Your mother… with a  _yardstick_?" she gasps.

Oops, she probably didn't need to know that.

"Just… a few times."

She takes a step closer and puts her hand on my arm comfortingly. "I had seen you and your brothers come to school looking bruised, but I just thought it was from beating up each other, you know, the way brothers do."

"Yeah, I wish that had been the case. Although probably a couple of bruises were from them."

I look up at her and find her looking pensive, like she's hesitant to say what's on her mind.

"What's your plan exactly for showing the Gamemakers that they don't own you?" she finally gets out.

I knew this one would be coming. I must've tried to tell her a million different ways by now, but she's just so distrusting that she isn't convinced yet. I just need to be as direct as possible.

I sigh and take both her hands in mine.

"Well… It's simple, really. They told me that they're now responsible for picking who I pair bond with. But I'm not going to let them choose for me. There has always only been one choice."

I squeeze her hands and her eyes widen in realization and understanding. "Oh. I see."

"And if you want me to back off and stop pursuing you, then I will. But you're going to be the only one who ever holds that power. No one else is going to tell me that I can't make you mine, because… you're all I've ever dreamed of having."

"But…" she stammers, "I'm not an ideal choice for a wife. Surely you see that."

"No, you're wrong," I tell her with certainty. "When I picture the future we could have together, I don't picture you stuck inside doing the cleaning and the cooking and all those homemaker jobs. I actually see myself doing all of that. You would be out in the woods, past the fence, hunting down dinner."

She laughs at that, but doesn't say any more on the subject. Then I decide it's my turn to get some answers.

"Was that all of your questions? Because I have a few of my own."

She smiles and tells me, "Go ahead."

"What do you think you owe me for?"

"Ugh, seriously?" She drops her hands and begins to walk away, but I catch her.

"Yes."

"You probably don't even remember it," she tells me as her blush comes back.

"Tell me," I insist.

Katniss takes a breath, and then explains, "It was after my father died, and I was desperate for some food—our family had only been eating boiled water with mint leaves for three days. I was trying to sell some of Prim's old baby clothes in the rain, and they got ruined in the mud, and so I went scrounging through some garbage cans in the merchant quarters."

"That was the day I gave you the bread."

She looks shocked, and asks, "You remember that?"

I realize then that this could be a good opportunity to elaborate on what I mean when I say there's always only been one choice for me.

I take a deep breath and tell her, "Katniss, that was the scariest moment of my life. Not just because I knew my mother would get out the yardstick, but because it was the first time I had to deal with the fact that I could lose you. That you could be taken to a community home. Or worse, starve to death. I did what I did not just for you, but for me as well. I needed you alive, so that… well, so that you could be here, hearing all of this now. So you would at least know how I've felt about you all these years. And even after I did it, I still felt like I should've done more."

"Well…" she struggles to come up with a response. "I still feel like I owe you."

"Fine, then answer me this. When was the other time someone kissed you?"

She throws up her arms. "Really?  _That's_  how we're going to make it even?"

"I  _have_  to know," I beg her. "It's been driving me nuts."

"It was Gale."

"I knew it!"

"It was the day of his Reaping," she explains. "He came and kissed me goodbye. It was sad, because I knew I would probably never see him again, and I knew that without this stupid system we probably would've just… ended up together. We were so comfortable with each other… although, looking back, I don't think I was ever really attracted to him."

"Why do you say that?" I ask, confused.

"Because…" Her blush comes back as she tells me, "I didn't linger over his kiss. I didn't replay it in my mind on a constant loop, and I didn't feel desperate to just be near him again. I missed him after he left, of course, but I didn't go crazy over it."

And then, I suddenly get what's she's talking about.

I ask her with a smug grin, "Whereas with our kiss, you did all of those things?"

"Don't make me say it."

"Come on. Please? I need to hear it. I need it to be real."

"Okay!" she admits. "Yes! I went crazy! I… lingered over it. I replayed our kiss in the hallway over and over and was so desperate to do it again. And I stupidly thought that if I just got it over with at the mixer then I would get it out of my system, but… I'm still kind of going crazy."

I  _really_  hope I'm not dreaming right now, because I think I just got Katniss Everdeen to admit that she's attracted to me.

There's one question that still remains though.

"You know," I say, "you never gave me an answer to the first question I asked."

"Yes I did. I told you what I owed you."

"That wasn't my first question though."

"I'm pretty sure it was," she tells me with her arms folded across her chest and a cute smirk on her face.

"Well, maybe I didn't exactly ask it as a question, so I'll ask it now." I take a deep breath and state as calmly as possible, "Do you want me to stop my plan of pair bonding with you in that arena, no matter what?"

She's silent as her blush slowly gets redder and redder.

"Please, just tell me," I plead. "Don't make me waste another second if I don't have to."

After a beat, she answers, "No. Don't stop."

"You're sure?"

"Yes!" she chokes out a laugh. "I'm sure. I'm convinced. What more proof do you need?"

As she says those last words, our eyes lock, and both of us seem to know exactly what kind of proof is needed. I can feel myself slowly leaning in for a kiss, and then the ultimate cockblock strikes.

"Come, Katniss, dear!" Effie sings as she grabs Katniss' arm and yanks her away. "Peeta and the rest of the men are about to be presented!"

"We'll talk tonight," Katniss tells me as our escort drags her off.

My momentary disappointment that we didn't seal the deal then and there slowly dissipates as I think of the possibilities that later tonight could bring. It fills me with hope, and gives me the confidence I'll surely need out on that runway as I'm presented to all of Panem as the only District 12 male tribute in the 76th annual Mating Games.


	7. The Rooftop

I hurry over to the line of male tributes and take my place as the last to go out. Presented with this new information that I actually stand a chance of making Katniss swoon when she sees me on that runway, I try to straighten my shoulders and look manly and desirable.

Wait, does Katniss find me attractive because I'm manly? Or was it just because I told her I'd be the homemaker in our relationship? Maybe I should just go out there with a scrub brush and some rubber gloves… but then everyone else will just assume I'm gay. Then again, maybe convincing all the other female tributes I'm gay is just what I want, so I can be free to pursue Katniss in the arena without anyone else chasing after me…

Strategizing for these Games is confusing.

Cinna joins me with a lighter in his hand and asks, "You ready?"

"Sure," I reply, nodding my head. "It looked great on the girls."

"Seems like you thought it looked great on one in particular." He smirks at me and I realize that he's been observant. He brings the lighter to strategic points on my suit and continues, "You know, the Gamemakers seem ambivalent about the 'rules of engagement' this year, so I would be a little more discreet, for your own safety."

"Says the guy who's lighting me on fire," I retort.

Cinna chuckles and appears to change the subject, "If you haven't seen it yet, you should go up to the roof of the Training Center. It has beautiful views, especially at night. But it's a little windy, so the Gamemakers aren't able to get any good footage up there."

Holy shit! He's giving me directions to a secret make out spot! I nod at him in understanding.

"Remember: head high, shoulders back, and take long strides," he instructs.

"Okay."

Thresh, who is standing right in front of me, turns around and takes a look at my costume, and his eyes bug out of his head.

"Damn!" he exclaims. "That shit's insane. All I got are these fuckin' suspender shorts. I look like a dang scarecrow."

The lights dim and we hear the music: a rapid, synthesized, heavy beat accentuated by clapping. The District 1 tributes strut out on stage in their bedazzled costumes as a rough voice starts talking:

_Yeah, yeah,  
_ _When I walk on by, girls be looking like, damn he fly;  
_ _I pimp to the beat, walking down the street in my new lafreak, yeah,  
_ _This is how I roll, animal print pants outta control,  
_ _It's Redfoo with the big afro,  
_ _And like Bruce Lee, well I got the glow, yo!_

I can hear the crowd cheering loudly as the male tributes walk the runway one by one. Some of them play it cool and simply strut up and down, some of them strip off articles of clothing and throw them out to the female tributes, and a few cocky guys even dance or flex their muscles. The boy from District 7 has an axe for a prop, and he shoves it between his legs and swings it around like it's his junk.

_When I walk in the spot, this is what I see,  
_ _Everybody stops and is staring at me,  
_ _I got passion in my pants and I ain't afraid to show it…  
_ _I'm sexy and I know it._

Thresh turns back to me before it's his turn and says, "Yo, watch this shit, man." He then takes to the catwalk and stops right in front of Clove. He puts his hands behind his head and gyrates his pelvis at her as the music practically commands him to do so:

_Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, yeah,  
_ _Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, yeah,  
_ _Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, yeah,  
_ _Wiggle, wiggle, wiggle, wig, yeah, yeah._

_Do the wiggle, man,  
_ _A little wiggle, man,  
_ _Yeah…  
_ _I'm sexy and I know it…_

He almost doubles over with laughter and jogs up and down the catwalk, waving to the crowd. He gets a mixed response: some of them are laughing and hollering, and some just look confused. Clove looks shocked, but is laughing about it. Although, it's hard to tell if she's laughing because she's flattered or laughing because she thought what he did was stupid. He holds up his hand for a high five as he makes his way back to me, and I indulge him before making my way onto the runway.

The beat drops as I step out on stage:

_Girl, look at that body,  
_ _Girl, look at that body,  
_ _Girl, look at that body,  
_ _I work out!_

_Girl, look at that body,  
_ _Girl, look at that body,  
_ _Girl, look at that body,  
_ _I work out!_

As I walk, I try to be seductive as best as I can. I keep my shoulders back and my head looking forward like Cinna told me, and I keep a playful smirk on my face. It seems to be working, because the crowd is cheering enthusiastically.

Or, maybe they just like the flames.

I spot Katniss staring at me as I walk back down the runway, and I decide that I've got to do something besides rely on my costume to make an impression. As I walk past her, I give her a wink, and a blushing smile creeps onto her face. All I can think as I step off the catwalk is that winking at her did seem to do something after all.

_I'm sexy and I know it._

All the male tributes are whooping and dancing around, everyone feeding off the adrenaline in the room. I am high fiving everyone I pass when I walk by the Careers and hear something alarming:

"I don't know about you shitheads, but I'm going after the dominatrix from 12 in the thigh highs. She is so fucking hot!"

"Cato, she looked like she would cut off your nuts and wear them as earrings. You sure you want  _that_  for the rest of your life?"

"Fuck you man, she just needs to be tamed. And I am clearly the only one around here strong enough to tame her into submission."

I glance over and see the guy they call Cato, with his large frame, golden hair, and muscles upon muscles, pantomiming grabbing an invisible girl and pounding into her, a menacing smile on his face.

My blood runs cold and I think I am about to vomit.

"Shit, dude, that is dirty."

"Well I'm not above playing dirty," Cato tells them proudly as he smacks the boy who insulted him on the back of the head. "But only if I have to. First I'll try to charm her, and if that doesn't work, then I'll break out the big guns."

I feel frozen in place as I process everything I've just heard. This big, muscular guy named Cato is going to pursue Katniss, and is ready and willing to use force if necessary.

Rape in the Games is not unheard of, but the Gamemakers try to discourage that kind of behavior, mostly because it's simply not something the Capitol people want to watch. If they suspect that someone is going to use force to claim a mate in the arena, they will try to put obstacles in their way. That doesn't mean, however, that the Gamemakers are able to intervene in every situation. It depends on many factors, including how well the DNA of the two would match, how suited they are for each other in terms of skill base, and if their respective sponsors want them together.

On top of that, Careers are usually the least intervened with, because the Capitol cares the most about keeping their districts happy.

That does not bode well for me. How the  _hell_  could I possibly compete against him in the arena?

I suddenly feel a tug and I am pulled from where I became immobilized. Portia is leading me back toward the District 12 team, who have assembled backstage.

"You rocked it, Peeta," she assures me. "When you winked, almost every girl in the place fell out of their seats."

"Oh," I laugh self-consciously. I only meant that wink to be for one girl out there.

Cinna extinguishes me and everyone tells me how well I did out there, and then Effie escorts me back out to the audience where I take a seat in our designated District 12 section.

Across from us, I can see Cato leering at Katniss, and it's taking every ounce of restraint that I have not to fly over the catwalk and beat the crap out of him.

I did come in second in the District 12 wrestling contest, losing only to Phyl. I could take on Cato…

Taking a second look at him, I realize that, no, I probably couldn't take him on. But that doesn't mean I don't want to. I glance over at Katniss and find that she's completely oblivious to his staring, and has her head down as she adjusts the hairpins on the back of her head again.

Those must really be giving her trouble.

The lights dim and a spotlight falls on the stage, where a podium has now been set up.

An announcer instructs the stadium: "Please rise for the grand entrance of President Coriolanus Snow!"

The anthem of Panem plays at President Snow takes the stage and does his own walk up and down the runway. He takes his time making his way to the end of the catwalk, waving to the crowds with a look of superiority on his face, and the crowds of Capitol people cheer even louder and more enthusiastically for him than they cheered for any of us.

Ass kissers.

Snow takes the podium and holds up his hands signaling everyone to be silent. He then makes his address:

"Welcome! Welcome tributes, citizens of the Capitol, and all of Panem. It is always a privilege each year to see the nation's newest adult citizens expanding their horizons as we, the Capitol, give them the opportunity to succeed far beyond their wildest dreams. And this year, we are off to a tremendous start, for I believe we have been able to showcase our tributes tonight in one of the grandest opening ceremonies that Panem has ever seen!"

The crowd goes wild, vehemently agreeing with him.

"For that, I must thank our Head Gamemaker this year, Mr. Seneca Crane." Snow gestures to the opposite end of the large stadium, where a spotlight falls on a man seated in front of a luxury suite with a drink in his hand. The man, who from so far away I can only assume is Seneca, rises and waves to the crowd.

Snow continues: "Mr. Crane has worked very hard to ensure that this year's Games are going to be both unique and memorable, and will remain in our history as one of the greatest Mating Games in Panem's history!"

The crowd is chanting and cheering enthusiastically, but I can't help the nagging thought in the back of my mind that all this talk of 'expanding horizons' and 'opportunity to succeed' is complete propaganda. All that those Gamemakers do is squash opportunity.

"And so, tributes, we salute your courage and your amenability, and we wish you Happy Mating Games!"

The anthem of Panem plays again and President Snow exits the stage. We tributes then stand and walk in formation up onto the runway and exit into the backstage area. Effie does her best to wrangle us as Cinna, Portia, and Haymitch, join us.

" _Great_  job, everyone," Haymitch compliments us, although somewhat sarcastically. Clearly he's had a few. "You all did a great job selling yourselves to the Capitol. You're all  _sure_  to get sponsors now that you've bared your… assets."

"Haymitch! Manners!" Effie scolds him.

"I just wanna make sure they understand the truth about these Games," Haymitch replies. "The long and short of it, kids, is that without sponsors being invested in you emotionally, they won't give two fucks about who those Gamemakers try to pair you with. But I actually think people will be paying attention to District 12 after tonight. Just make sure to keep up the appeal you've created throughout the rest of the week."

He then turns to Katniss and tells her, "Sweetheart, you could use a little more appeal. You looked constipated up there."

Anger burning in her eyes, Katniss lunges toward Haymitch, and it takes Effie, Portia, and Cinna to hold her back. I can hear Effie whisper to her, "Don't listen to him, dear. It's not worth it being angry at him."

Haymitch laughs and pulls out his flask as Katniss huffs loudly. She is eventually released, but keeps her arms folded across her chest and her eyes downcast as we all walk toward the elevators.

Effie informs us, "There is another party for you all tonight. You'll just want to follow your fellow tributes down that hallway." She gestures to the mob of tributes filing out of the backstage area, all still in costume.

"Do we have to go?" Katniss asks, her gaze still on the floor.

"Of course not, dear," Effie coos. "Although it will be a missed opportunity to try and find that special someone before you get into the arena."

Katniss says nothing in response to this, and suddenly I remember the Training Center roof.

"I think I'm going to call it a night too," I tell everyone. "It's been a pretty tiring couple of days."

"You snooze, you lose!" Dynah comments, and then she and Cecilia and Cooley take off toward the party, giggling up a storm.

Effie gestures to the elevators and tells us, "Well then, enjoy your beauty sleep, dears. Remember, tomorrow begins your three days of skills tests."

She then leaves us and joins her fellow escorts, who are all comparing notes. Cinna and Portia then bid us farewell and walk off in another direction, leaving us alone with Haymitch.

Joy.

We silently get onto the elevator and Katniss presses the button labeled '12.' Haymitch takes a pull from his flask that lasts the length of three floors, and then belches loudly.

It's ironic that he made such a big deal about being likable to sponsors, when clearly he makes no effort to be likable at all. I wonder if his indifference will be our downfall.

We exit the elevator as quietly as we entered it, and Haymitch throws up a hand as he walks away from us, slurring, "G'night kids."

Hmm, maybe indifference can be helpful, particularly if he leaves us unsupervised like this.

I glance over at Katniss, who is glowering at his retreating form.

"Hey," I get her attention and place my hand gently on her arm. "He's an asshole. Don't listen to him."

"I really tried," she replies, shaking her head.

I sigh wistfully, remembering how she stomped up and down that catwalk like the badass she is, and tell her, "I thought you looked amazing up there. Those Capitol people loved you. You're sure to get sponsors."

"Thanks," she smiles. "You're not just saying that because you, um… well, because you…"

"Because I like you?" I finish her sentence for her. "No, I am definitely not just saying that because I like you." She tries to hide her growing smile at my response, and I decide that I should make my move. "You know, Cinna told me that the roof of the Training Center has a great view of the Capitol. Do you wanna come up with me and see it?"

"Um, yeah, sure."

I lead her down the hallway where I noticed the entrance to the roof was marked, and we make our way up the stairs. As soon as we step out onto the rooftop, the wind howls and whips about, and we duck down to avoid the gusts. We end up sitting against one of the walls on the edge of the building, our bodies pressed up against one another for warmth.

"I wish we were still on fire," I remark. "That wind is so cold!" I turn and look again at how Katniss is dressed, still in her costume, and observe, "You must be freezing."

"Just my arms," she replies, and begins fiddling with her hairpins again.

"Do you need help?" I ask, gesturing to the back of her head.

"These stupid pins have been bothering me all day," she tells me. "I think I'll be warmer if I let my hair down around my shoulders."

"Good idea," I say, moving to help her. "I can get these ones in the back."

Katniss stammers, clearly trying to fight her instincts of wanting to do everything herself, "Oh, um… Sure. Okay… Thanks."

I gingerly remove the hairpins one by one, and undo the intricate braids to let her hair fall. It feels silky smooth, and smells amazing, and I realize that this is the most intimate we've ever been with each other—nothing like those hurried kisses we shared last night. I drape her hair lightly over her shoulders, and I feel her shudder.

"Still cold?" I whisper softly.

She shakes her head and then turns to me. Her expression is something I've never seen before, at least, nothing I've ever seen in real life. I must've pictured this look thousands of times before though, in my fantasies of her.

She's looking at me with desire.

The sight of it gets me up instantaneously, and I can feel my breathing getting heavier. We continue to stare at each other; our eyes locked on one another, both of us wanting to act but neither of us sure how. I can see fear creeping into her expression, and I wonder if she's having second thoughts.

"Say something," I plead to her in a whisper.

"I… I'm not good at saying something. I'm not good at any of this," she falters.

I reach out and caress her hair softly, hoping that touching her the way I just did will help us move closer. I swallow the lump in my throat, and with my eyes still on the strands of hair between my fingers, I tell her, "Let's not talk, then."

I look up and find her blushing and nodding at me ever so slightly. My hands move to cradle the sides of her face, and I press my lips lightly against hers. I feel her sigh into me, and press even more firmly, and so I press back. I move my hands to her shoulders and brace myself against them, and I feel her arms wrapping around me, and her hands weaving up into the hair on the back of my head. Our lips move in tandem, exploring every surface of one another, and the longer we go on, the more of an urge I get to take things further.

I try to suppress that urge though, because I want to go at a pace she's comfortable with. I know that whereas I've been fantasizing about her for years, she's only just discovered her attraction to me. And she's too important for me to just leave my dick in charge of the situation.

Eventually we both need to come up for air, and so we break apart with our breathing heavy and our foreheads pressed together.

"Thanks," she says with a smile. "I didn't know how to initiate that."

"That's what you wanted though, right?" I smirk at her, and she closes her eyes and smiles to herself.

She's definitely warmer now.

She lets out a small sigh, and I look and find her expression pained. I pull away from her and take her hands in mine.

"What is it?" I ask, concerned once again that she's having second thoughts.

"I'm just thinking…" she replies cryptically.

"About what?"

"About how new all of this is to me… And about how we'll be in the arena in a few days." She keeps her eyes on our entwined fingers and draws patterns on the back of my hand with her thumb.

I know what she means. It's the same fear that I was struck with at the Reaping when Haymitch told me to get laid as much as I can before the actual event takes place in the arena. I'm sure she's worried about the same things as I am: that it will be awkward, and embarrassing, and we won't do it right…

Then, it comes to me.

"What if we, um… practice?" I suggest. I can feel my face getting red just by saying the words out loud.

"What?" she asks, looking surprised.

"I mean, neither of us know what we're doing here, but we have some time before we have to do it for real. So let's use that time to practice and get more comfortable with each other…" I trail off and then think to give her another opportunity to back out. "I mean, if you want to."

"But… we're not supposed to."

"Well, there are no cameras up here," I tell her. "Cinna told me the wind makes it hard for them to get good footage, so they don't bother."

"But… I don't know if I'm ready for what they do in the arena," she tells me quietly, and I can almost detect a hint of fear in her tone.

"Oh, of course not! Me neither," I make sure to tell her. "Nowhere near ready. But there's a lot that comes before… that."

She looks at me quizzically and asks, "How do you know?"

"I have older brothers," I shrug. "And we used to share a bedroom, so I would sometimes accidentally walk in on them. And they would pass information along to me as well."

"So, you're a, um… you're like me. You've never…"

"Oh, uh, nope. Never. Last night was even my first real kiss. Well, besides when I was thirteen and Gretchen Copeland gave me a sneak attack kiss at lunch, but I don't really count that one."

"So, um…" she stammers and anxiously plays with the ends of her hair. "What kinds of things do you know?"

I arch an eyebrow at her and ask, "Does that mean you're interested in practicing?"

She lets out a nervous laugh and looks anywhere but at me, and I realize that she if she really trusts me, she needs to get over being embarrassed about this stuff with me.

"First thing we're gonna practice," I say, placing my hands on her cheeks and angling her head so she's staring into my eyes, "is just being able to look at me when we talk. You can look at your sister when you talk to her, right?"

"Yes," she concedes, rolling her eyes at me.

"How about your mother?"

"I look at her when I talk to her too."

"So why not me?"

"Well, they're my family."

"Well that's what I want to be!"

My confession catches her off guard, and suddenly she can't keep her eyes off me. I feel as though she's studying me, taking in what I've said and really considering if it's what she wants.

Because the truth of this whole thing is, if we pair bond, we  _will_  be a family, even more important to each other than our parents or siblings. It's a thought that's passed through my mind once or twice, but I'm sure she's never thought about it like that. And so if she agrees to talk to me like she does with her family, she's implying that she wants me to be her family.

That's a lot for her to consider.

She finally smiles and blushes, but refuses to look away, making her point. "Fine, I'll look at you when we talk from now on."

I can't hide the grin that spreads over my face and say, "Good. Now, about that kissing thing… I think we should practice that some more."

She laughs and leans in, and we kiss for the second time that night. It's tender and sweet, and I can't help feeling like I would be content to have the world stop spinning and for us to be frozen in this moment forever.


	8. The Training

I look like a fool. Really, like a damn fool. If someone who didn't know me were to see me right now, they'd think something was wrong with me, like I'm one of those dullards who live in their own little world.

But I don't care.

I have gone through my whole morning routine grinning like an idiot.

I just can't seem to wipe the smile off my face as I accidentally get splattered with rose-scented soap in the shower, or as I squeeze too much mint paste on my toothbrush, or as I put my training shirt on backwards.

I'm quite distracted today.

I know I thought a lot about Katniss before the Games, but now, I think of her  _constantly_. And it's not just silly daydreams anymore. Now I think about how smooth her hair feels as I run my fingers through it. Or how her bottom lip feels when it's wedged in between mine. Or how when she touches the back of my neck, it makes me shiver all over.

I'm exciting myself just thinking about it. This 'practicing' thing is  _fun_.

We now have three days of training, and on the afternoon of the third day, we present our most valued skills to the Gamemakers. Then we have a day to practice for our interviews with Caesar Flickerman, and then come the interviews themselves, which take a full day for prepping and taping. That means we have five days until we are actually released into the arena.

Can we practice enough in five days?

When I was fourteen years old, Phyl and Rye sat me down and instructed me on the "Four F's of Foreplay: French, Feel, Finger, Fuck." They told me to start at the top of a woman and work my way down, first with my hands, then with my mouth, and finally with "my baguette," as Phyl so appropriately put it. They told me not to be too rough or else it would take too long for the woman to recover. They told me not to be too gentle or else I wouldn't have any affect on her whatsoever. They told me not to be too fast, or too slow. They told me to change positions to hit all the different angles inside a woman. They told me about the strategic spots to find: the nub on the outside of a woman that I press on with my thumb, and the sensitive nerves on the inside that I find by hooking my finger and curling it toward me like I'm beckoning to her. They told me to also find spots on her ears, neck, breasts, shoulders, and sometimes feet that would make her lose control. They told me not to touch her ass unless she directed me there. They told me to ask about her menses—as embarrassing as that is to ask about—because it's important to know where she is in her cycle. They told me about the different precautions I could take to stop her from getting pregnant, even though they're all illegal. They told me to stay away from anyone with junk that looks itchy or bumpy or blotchy or oozy or like a cauliflower. They told me to not take it so seriously, because it's supposed to be fun.

They gave me a  _lot_  of information, and I don't know how I'm going to possibly apply all this knowledge and figure out what works in just five days. So far, I think the only rule I'm following is the last one, about having fun. I mean, we haven't even gotten to the first F yet!

We do have five days though, which is more than enough time to get through all four of those F's, and then some.

It makes me wonder if Katniss knows anything about this stuff. She's watched the Games, sure, but knowing what I know from my brothers, I can pick out the things that are more true to life and the things that look more played up for the cameras. She had no older siblings to teach her what's real and what's not real, and so who knows what kind of information she's gotten.

I realize as I double-knot the laces of my boots that she and I will have to have a talk about sex before engaging in any  _actual_  sex. Maybe then we'll at least have a mutual understanding of what's expected, and avoid the awkwardness that virgin sex is so infamously known for.

I open the door to my room and find Katniss leaving her room as well, her training uniform hugging her curves in all the right places and her long hair cascading down her back in her signature braid.

"Oh, hi," I say, suddenly inexplicably nervous.

She tries to keep her smile under control and replies, "Morning."

We walk to the dining room in silence, because really, we can't just talk about our newfound relationship out in the open. It's just too dangerous, with possible hidden cameras and microphones and Avox spies… All right, maybe I'm being paranoid, but it certainly doesn't feel safe, at least in this point in the Games. The friendliest we get with each other as we stroll down the hallway side by side is a fleeting glance and a flush of color to Katniss' cheeks, and then it's back to the façade of indifference.

We join the others at breakfast, and Effie makes a point to announce our entrance. "Ah, here are our final two tributes! Haymitch has been waiting for you so that he can instruct all of you on how to proceed during your days of training. Haymitch?"

Haymitch, who has been spiking his coffee with liquor, looks up at Effie like a prey caught in the sights of its predator.

"I'm gonna do what now?"

Effie sighs exasperatedly, and then laughs it off as she stands and crosses to where Haymitch is sitting. "Haymitch, dear, did you forget the conversation we had yesterday about actually  _helping_  these tributes?" she asks as she squeezes his arm forcefully.

"Ow! Ow! All right! Uncle! Mercy!" Haymitch yelps in protest. Effie lets him go and he addresses us as he rubs his sore arm. "Fine. Listen, kids. Last night, you wanted to impress the citizens of the Capitol. And you did, for the most part. But now, you want to impress an entirely different group of people, the Gamemakers. And unlike those Capitol pricks—no offense, Effie—the Gamemakers are not going to be swayed by some silly costume or winning smile. You have to show them that you've got chops, and chops in a lot of different stuff. Variety of skill is the name of the game here, because that increases your likelihood of being able to pair bond with more than just one or two people."

He smiles, satisfied with his lecture, and then starts to take a drink but stops himself to add one more thing: "Unless, of course, you're a fuckin' genius like myself, in which case just show them why they couldn't possibly dispose of you. There." He holds up his glass to us and takes a long sip of his spiked coffee.

"Yes, well… thank you, Haymitch," Effie says, clearly unimpressed with his advice. "Any questions?"

Cecilia asks, "How do we show off a variety of skills when we only meet with the Gamemakers individually on the third day?"

"Good question, dear!" Effie notes enthusiastically in an attempt to get Haymitch to show any interest. "Haymitch, care to answer her?"

"Huh?" he mumbles as he stops shoveling omelet into his mouth. "Oh, uh, they'll be observing you tributes throughout the three days, so they'll see what you're doing. But save your best skills for when you have a private audience with them. In the meantime, try some new stuff."

I can't help but think of what those Gamemakers expect me to show them, and I can feel my face burn in embarrassment as I hear the one from my first meeting with them laughing in my mind, "Which District needs a baker? Let's ship him off now!"

I wish I knew how to show them that I can do much more than just bake! I can wrestle, but that's a skill more reserved for those tributes who want a Peacekeeper career, and that's just not who I am. I can paint, but the only things I've ever painted on were cakes and cookies.

And we're back to the bakery.

Maybe in the next three days, I can find some new things I'm good at. They'll need to be skills that will compliment Katniss' skills though, so that we'll look well suited to each other.

I wonder what talents she'll show off to the Gamemakers. Will she show them what she can do with a bow and arrow, or how she can set traps? Somehow I doubt they'll appreciate those skills, and may even infer that she's been sneaking out past the district fence illegally.

Maybe she'll sing for them. It has been so long since I've heard Katniss' beautiful singing voice…

"Oh, look at the time!" Effie shrieks, breaking me from my reverie. "Don't want to be late, now do you, dears? Off we go!"

We all follow Effie to the elevator and take it back down to the basement. We end up at the Training Center, where several of the tributes have gathered already and are standing and chatting with one another. It appears as though they've all divided into various cliques of four or five, and they glance around at the other groups conspiratorially as they chat. It seems as though everyone is already trying to guess who will pair with who once we get into the arena.

Cecilia joins the girl from District 11 that Thresh pointed out to me, Seeder, as well as the fox-faced girl from District 5. Dynah and Cooley join two boys who I recognize as being from District 6, and the guy from District 7 who used an axe as his dick on the catwalk. I notice Thresh standing with Twill and the other girl from District 8, and when he sees me, he waves me over.

I glance over at Katniss, who has joined Annie, Mags, and Rue, as well as the other boy from Thresh and Rue's district, and find no hint of an invitation to join them. I'm sure I'd be welcome in their group, but I don't want to blow off Thresh, so I grudgingly make my way over to him.

"Hey, man, you missed a kick ass party last night," Thresh tells me as he hugs me and smacks his hand on my back. He whispers, not letting go of me, "Twill let me get all up in those ribbons she was wearing. She's no Clove, but she sure is easy!" He pulls away and then smiles at Twill, who giggles at him. "Twill, Bonnie, this is my boy, Peeta, from 12."

Twill giggles with the girl Thresh called Bonnie, and Bonnie remarks, "You were really on fire yesterday! You looked so powerful…"

"Well, thanks," I say, accepting the compliment but not feeling quite comfortable with the implied message behind it. "It wasn't real fire though, just synthetic."

"You boys ready to learn some new skills?" Twill asks, her tone dripping with innuendo.

Thresh laughs, "Skills I got, girl."

As Thresh and Twill flirt with each other, Bonnie laughing along and trying to get closer to me, I can't help but sneak another glance at Katniss, wishing I were standing with her. As I quickly glance up, though, I notice something odd.

She's already looking in my direction, her expression a mix of hurt, irritation, and longing. When our eyes lock, her gaze quickly falls to the floor.

What was that about?

"Yo, man. You checkin' out my girl Rue over there or what?" Thresh asks as he smacks me on the arm to get my attention.

"Oh, um…" I glance back over at Katniss, who has turned her interest back to her friends. Thinking I can use all the help I can get at this point, I lean in and whisper to Thresh, "No, just, uh, the girl from my district."

"Oh, shit man! Really!"

I nod.

"Well, damn. You gotta give me some details about that—"

Just then, the head trainer climbs on top of some training equipment and claps her hands to call us to order.

"Later," Thresh continues. "Details later."

"Welcome, tributes," the head trainer greets us. "My name is Atala, and myself and my crew are here to be your support during these next three days of training. At each station, you will find the skills associated with the main occupations of each district. The Gamemakers will take into consideration which skills you excel at, and which you do not, and will determine which district is suited best for the skills you possess. In addition, there are also several stations that feature skills that the Capitol considers valuable. And although being granted Single status is a rarity, you should not ignore these stations, because if you find yourself the last one standing in the arena without a mate, it will be better to have shown the Gamemakers that you can contribute as a Single, and that you are not better off dead. Myself and the other trainers will be available to assist you if necessary, otherwise you are free to explore the different stations at your leisure."

She gestures for us to begin, and slowly everyone disperses to the various stations.

"You boys wanna come with us to the District 8 station?" Twill asks us, gently running her fingers up Thresh's arm. He takes it and places a kiss on the back of her hand.

"You go on ahead," he tells her, and she giggles. "Me and Peet have some business to attend to."

Twill and Bonnie rush off toward the District 8 station, and as soon as they're out of our line of sight, Thresh drags me toward the Career district stations.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"Look, man. That Twill is cute. A nice safety. But I told you who my first choice is. And she's over here."

I peer around the Training Center and spot Katniss standing awkwardly as she waits in line for the District 11 station, a rope ladder that imitates a tree climb, with her friends.

"But why do I need to come with you? My first choice is over there." I jerk my head in Katniss' direction, trying to be discreet.

"Yeah, about that, man," Thresh says as he swings an arm around my shoulders. "You know the point of these Games is to sample some… exotic flavors. Why would you want someone from your own district?"

I sigh, "Look, I know you have a first choice and a safety, but for me, she's it. She's my only choice. Always has been. She's beautiful, and brave, and kind—"

"All right, all right, just tone that shit down, man," Thresh interrupts as he gestures lowering the volume with his hand. "So you want my help in getting her or what?"

"Huh?"

"Well that's why I need you over here with me, playa. You need to be my wingman, and I'll be yours."

"What's a wingman?" I ask, confused.

Thresh shakes his head solemnly. "Bro, you got a lot to learn. You know how mockingjays fly in flocks?"

"Well, yeah."

"Well that's so dude mockingjays have someone to back them up when they hit on those chick mockingjays. Two guys singing the same song is way better than one bird singing solo."

I think his metaphor got muddled up somewhere in there, but I understand enough to get what 'wingman' means. I'm pretty sure he needs me to talk him up, to demonstrate to Clove that he's a decent guy, and to make him look good when he hits on her. And he's willing to do the same for me.

Because he's willing to help me, it makes me want to help him.

"All right, I'll do it," I say decisively. "What do we need to do?"

"Yeah, that's my boy!" Thresh claps me on the back and drags me to the District 2 station, which are all skills of brawn. He takes a look around and finds the male Careers off with the weapons, and picks a station with weights of various sizes. "Just lift these weights with me and try to be impressed with how much I'm picking up."

He lifts a weight marked with '125' and starts curling his bicep with it.

"Ohh yeahhh… Feel the burn…" he says in between reps.

I choose a slightly lighter weight, marked '75,' and throw it over my shoulder, working the muscles in my back and arms. I'm used to lifting much more in bags of flour, but I know showing up Thresh probably wouldn't make me a good wingman. I notice Clove with the other Career girls staring at the two of us, and alert Thresh to our spectators.

"Sup, girl?" Thresh nods his head at Clove, who rolls her eyes and laughs. Again, it's hard to tell if she's flattered or annoyed. Thresh seems to think she's impressed, because he takes the weight marked '150' and starts lifting with it. He struggles considerably more, but he doesn't do too badly, and to his credit, she's still watching him.

I decide I should say something wingman-like.

"Wow, 150, that's impressive."

"You know it, my man," Thresh replies, his voice strained from lifting so much. "I bet I could just lift up some little shorty and carry her on outta here."

I glance quickly at Clove, and find that she actually looks… intrigued by Thresh's comment. He notices it too, and quickly drops the 150 weight and approaches her.

"Let's see if I bet right," he says, and he grabs Clove by the waist and throws her over his shoulder. She squeals and laughs, pounding her tiny fists on his back. He laughs along with her, his voice booming, and he turns and gives me a thumbs up.

The rest of the Career girls giggle hysterically as Thresh spins her around, and I sense a few of them scrutinizing me as well. It makes me wonder if this wingman thing includes me leading them on, the way Thresh sort of did with Twill. Definitely something I didn't anticipate, and not something I'm interested in doing.

"Hey, uh, I'm gonna go check out some of the Capitol stations," I call out to Thresh.

"Cool, man," he responds. "I got things covered here."

Thankful that he let me go, I breathe a sigh of relief and peruse the Capitol stations. The skills to practice here seem a little more… frivolous, and certainly aren't essential to survival. There's a modeling station, a singing station, a beauty station…

Then, it catches my eye.

There's a station with an easel and blank canvas, as well as a wide variety of paints.

The only time I've ever had the opportunity to paint with a medium that wasn't frosting was in school, in art class. And even then, I painted on paper with just a few colors. It's where I first learned about mixing colors to get just the right shade, and later applied that skill all the time in the bakery. I suppose the Capitol can't be bothered with mixing colors though. They shouldn't have to work at creating the right shade of… 'burnt sienna' or 'aquamarine;' it should just be there already for them.

Slowly, almost reverently, I approach the painting station. Everything looks so pristine, and I almost don't want to touch it for fear I'll be too messy or break something. But that blank canvas calls to me. I pick up a thin brush, dip it in a beautiful shade of sunset orange, and make my first mark on the canvas.

Well, I can't just leave it now.

I lose myself in the colors, creating a scene I've seen so many times before in the distance outside my bedroom window. I fill in the deep shadows of the mountains, the brilliant oranges of the sunset, and the earthy greens of the trees. The grasses almost look on fire the way the auburn rays of sun shine down on them, and the clouds in the sky mix with the constant smoke of the coal mines, creating a dense fog.

"Oh, wow," I hear a familiar voice say behind me, and I can't help the smile that spreads across my face. I turn to look, and she's there, gazing at my creation. "That's amazing."

I smile at her and ask, "You like it?"

She nods her head. "It reminds me of home."

"Yeah…" I sigh, and look back at the painting.

I wonder what everyone back home is up to. I wonder if they miss us…

"Um, so—" Katniss coughs politely to get my attention, and I turn back to her. "It's lunch time. I thought I should let you know."

I glance around the Training Center and find that everyone is filing out the double doors, all chatting and laughing with one another.

"Do you want to sit with us?" she asks, and then inquires with a smirk and a raised eyebrow, "Or do you want to sit with Thresh and his harem?"

"Funny," I retort, wiping my paint-splattered hands on a rag. I can't help but think of the look she gave me earlier, but her joking tone makes me think she's not too mad or jealous about it. I reassure her, "I'd much rather sit with you, if you're inviting me."

"I am," Katniss remarks nonchalantly, although I can tell she's trying to hide her smile.

I step down from the station and we make our way together to the adjacent dining hall. We walk around the hall and pick up our food from the usual abundance of choices, and take our seats at a table with Annie, Rue, Mags, and the other boy from 11 who Rue introduces as Chaff.

Chaff and Mags look quite comfy together.

"So, you're friends with Thresh?" he asks, nodding toward Thresh's table. He's back with Twill and Bonnie since the Career males and females are all sitting together.

I can't help but notice Cato as he keeps glancing in our direction. The way he's looking at Katniss makes me nervous, like he's a scavenger circling some helpless, dying animal.

I need to figure out how I can possibly stop that guy.

"I guess so," I reply, turning my attention back to Chaff. "I'm his… wingman."

He laughs, "He's such a player, that guy needs no wingman."

"Seriously," Rue agrees with a smirk.

"He's a nice guy though," Chaff comments. "Always there with a torch light after dark when we work late."

"Yeah, I mean, he's definitely a good guy," I agree. "Maybe he thinks he needs a wingman in front of the Careers."

"Maybe," Mags cuts in, "but then how do you explain Chaff landing a girl from a Career district without any wingman?" She leans against him and looks up at him sweetly, and he chuckles at her display of affection.

"Mags, I'm pretty sure  _you_  landed  _him_ , not the other way around," Rue teases, and Mags replies by throwing a piece of bread at her.

I glance at Katniss and find her wearing a concerned expression. Did she notice Cato ogling her?

I nudge her and ask, "What's wrong?"

She nods her head in Annie's direction, and I turn and find Annie staring off into space forlornly, her elbow resting in her food.

"Annie? You all right?" Katniss asks, reaching across the table and giving Annie's arm a shake. She breaks from her trance and jumps a little.

"Oh! Sorry. I, um… What's up?"

By now, everyone at the table has turned their attention to Annie. Most look confused and amused, but Mags actually looks frightened.

"What's up with  _you_?" Rue asks in return.

"Oh, um, nothing. Just spaced out for a second. Sorry."

Chaff comments, "Your elbow is covered in sauce."

"What?" Annie asks, checking her elbows. "Oh, crap!" She quickly grabs a napkin and everyone laughs the moment off, but I keep my eye on Mags, who still looks concerned.

I wonder what Mags knows that the rest of us don't.

The rest of lunch is uneventful, and the rest of our training is as well. I try my hand at a few of the district stations, and I do all right at most of the skills. The skills that are lost on me the most involve some kind of computer programming.

Guess I'm not going to end up in Districts 3, 5, or 6.

I check in with Thresh throughout the day, who is splitting his time between Clove and Twill. It's an odd balance for him to strike, and it makes me wonder what the girls think of each other. He tells me near the end of the day that I made a great wingman, although I ignored the girls' friends too much.

So I  _was_  supposed to lead them on, at least a little.

He promises to be my wingman tomorrow, and nudges me in the side slyly as Katniss passes us.

"What are you standin' around here for?" he whispers. "Go get her, man!"

He gives me a push in her direction, and I run to catch up to her.

"Uh, hey," I say, falling in step with her.

"Hi."

"Long day."

"Yeah."

"Lots to practice…" I comment, although only she knows that it's code. A small smirk forms on her lips.

"Yeah," she agrees. "And I think we have a free night too."

"Oh yeah, no announcements of any results tonight."

Tomorrow they'll announce the results of the DNA match, and the night after they'll announce our skills test scores, but tonight there's nothing to keep viewers updated on. The most they'll do is a recap of the opening ceremonies.

Katniss swallows loudly, and then says nervously, "I think I need more practice."

My legs practically turn to jelly when she says this, as if she told me she wanted to fuck me till I'm rubbed raw and my balls are drained of their fluids.

Hell, maybe that's what she really means!

Well, maybe not. But a guy can dream, right?

"Yeah," I exhale, "me too. The roof seemed like a good place to practice…"

"It did."

"Okay then."

"Good."

We can't bear to look at each other as we enter the elevator, but I can feel the tension thrumming between us. I can't help but think in this moment how maybe tonight I'll start putting my brothers' advice to good use.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's what Peeta's painting looks like (copy and paste): http://i295.photobucket.com/albums/mm134/ktface3/RWJ6000A.jpg


	9. The Exploration

Katniss is an amazing kisser. She discovered a little while ago that we could kiss with our mouths open, and since then I've been intoxicated by the taste of her as we explore each other with our tongues. I know it's weird to say that I enjoy how she tastes, but it's true. It's slightly sweet, and minty like the tea she drinks after dinner.

We managed to escape another party tonight, and made our way to the roof the first chance we got. It's less windy up here tonight, and so we were able to take a better look around, and discovered a little garden on the other side.

That's where we've been sitting for the last hour or so, practically sucking each other's faces off.

It's been  _incredible_.

I feel her adjust her position, angling her body toward me more, and as she does this, her hand drops and accidentally lands near my crotch. It's only for a split second, but I realize she's brushed up against my erection.

She knows it as well, because her eyes fly open and she quickly backs away.

"Oh! Gah, I'm sorry," she apologizes, her cheeks turning red.

Maybe because it's so absurd, or maybe because she's so adorable when she's embarrassed, but I actually start laughing at the whole situation. How silly of her to be uncomfortable about it. I mean, doesn't she realize it's a good thing?

On second thought, maybe she doesn't. We still haven't had that talk.

"It's okay, really," I tell her as I get my laughter under control, taking her hand in mine. "I know it was an accident, but, I mean… It's okay. It's what we're building up to, right?"

"Um—" she stammers, her hand squeezing mine nervously. "I guess…"

"Katniss, what do you know about this kind of stuff?" I ask her seriously.

She makes a point to look at me as she answers, "Well… I'm not clueless, if that's what you mean. I have watched the Games."

"You know I didn't mean it like that," I say softly. "I mean, besides learning from watching the Games, I kind of know what to do from my brothers. And I was wondering how you know what to do."

She stares off in another direction, chewing on her nail and pondering my question. I can see her blushing slightly as she continues to think about it. Finally, she looks back at me.

"Well, I know some of what to do from Madge Undersee."

Really? The sweet, quiet mayor's daughter? I had sometimes seen her sitting with Katniss at lunch, but I never thought much about her besides that. Then again, there must be a reason she's not here.

Katniss can see the confusion in my expression, and elaborates, "She pair bonded with Brock Rosen. They've had a fling going on for years. I guess if you've never been to the slagheap, you wouldn't know. They were there all the time, and she'd tell me some of what they did there, and gave me some pointers for when the time comes."

"Wow, I never would've thought…" I remark, and I can see hesitation on her face. "What is it?" I ask.

She shakes her head and replies, "Oh, no. It's nothing."

"Tell me. Please?"

"Well… it's not something I've told anyone before."

I stay silent and instead squeeze her hand gently, reassuring her with my touch that she can trust me and shouldn't be embarrassed or scared to tell me anything.

She tries and fails to look me in the eye as she tells me, "I also, um, know what to do for, uh… myself. Sometimes if Prim ended up in our mother's bed, I would…"

She doesn't need to finish that sentence. I can fill in the blanks. And as I picture the image in my head—Katniss quietly trying to get herself off as her mother and sister sleep soundly nearby—it makes me want her even more.

"What, um—" I clear my throat, my voice suddenly shrill. "What did you do? What did you think about? I mean, uh…"

I'm pretty sure my dick has taken control of my mouth now, because if I know Katniss, those questions were  _way_  too forward. Her eyes widen and her gaze drops to the flowerbeds surrounding us.

"Sorry, uh, you don't have to answer that," I quickly retract.

She scoffs, "I don't—I didn't think about anything in particular. It was more just… relaxing."

I stare at her in disbelief. She actually answered my completely inappropriate question!

She must really trust me now. I feel speechless.

"And I know what we're building up to, and, when we kiss I feel… almost hungry for more, but it's… it's a big step." She looks up at me, her expression frightened but determined. "It feels right with you, though."

"Yeah," I breathe out.

Slowly, purposefully, Katniss moves closer to me. She places one hand on my shoulder and another on my hip, and pulls on me to bring me nearer. I can feel the heat rolling off of her in waves, and when our lips touch, I feel a passion from her that I haven't felt before. I wrap my arms around her waist, and find that we're leaning back onto the ground; our bodies flush against one another.

She can definitely feel me now, and she's not shying away from it this time.

I move to kiss her chin, earlobes, and neck, and I can feel her sharp panting in my ear, particularly when I graze my lips against her collarbone. Once she even jerks involuntarily at my touch, and it spurs me on even more.

"Katniss," I whisper in her ear. "Please, show me how to touch you."

She inhales sharply at my request, and I pull back to look in her eyes. The hunger that she was talking about is very evident on her face, and she nods her head at me in consent. She sits up and I follow her lead, and after she considers how to position herself, she slowly and cautiously moves so she's sitting in between my legs with her back against my chest. I plant a light kiss on her shoulder, and she takes my hands and guides them.

One hand moves from her warm cheek down to her breast, and the other hand lays on her stomach for a while as the first hand works on her nipple, which stands at attention at my touch. She shifts me from one breast to the other, and I mimic her caressing movements as I try to keep my breathing under control.

I really hope I'm doing this right, because all of my brothers' advice has escaped me. I crane my neck around to see her face, and find her eyes closed, her mouth open, and her cheeks a beautiful shade of pink.

She is as radiant as the sun.

Encouraged by her reaction to me, I move the hand on her stomach slightly, and I feel her tense a little at the realization that there's more to come. She takes a deep breath and moves us, her hand under mine, beneath the waistband of her pants. She feels silky smooth, and I realize that she must've been waxed, like what they had done to certain parts of my body. Her hand keeps moving me further until we've reached her sensitive folds, where I suddenly remember I'll be able to find her clit, the little nub that will drive her to the edge. Together we plunge in, and I find her already so hot and wet, and her whole body shudders a little.

Lightly, gently, she moves her fingers back and forth, and I can feel that we're stroking the nub. And as her breathing becomes more erratic, the more I want to take over. Slowly I pull my hand out and then slide back in underneath hers, and I press down on her clit for the first time. Her body jolts at the touch, like I've sent an electric shock through her, and a small moan escapes her lips.

It stuns me, and makes me want to do that to her over and over just to hear it again.

The urge to have her as close to me as possible takes over. I hold her tightly and plant wet kisses all over her neck, and my other hand springs back to life and starts to move over her breasts again, and I can feel her losing control. Her moans are louder now, and her head rears back as she thrusts up into my hand. She glances over at me, and our eyes lock, and in that moment she just looks so vulnerable and desperate.

A small smile forms on her lips, and she softly pleads to me, "Peeta…"

And I don't even feel in control of my movements anymore as I lean in and kiss her hard on the mouth. Her whole body tenses as we kiss, and I hold on to her even tighter, and then I feel her relax against me.

Our lips part and she sighs heavily, "Wow."

"Yeah," I agree. I slowly remove my hands from her, and resist the urge to lick my wet fingers. I can't explain it, but I  _really_  want to taste her. I don't want to freak her out too much though, so I just wipe my hand on the back of my pants.

She turns to face me and wraps her arms around my neck, resting her forehead against mine. "You're a fast learner," she says with a smirk.

"Well you're a good teacher," I reply.

We share a few soft, warm kisses, and then she asks me shyly, "Do you, um… Can I… I want to—to make you feel that good."

All of a sudden, there is a large lump in my throat and I can't seem to speak.

She wants to…

"Uh, yeah," I choke out. "Okay… uh, let's, um, move a little…" We shift so she's sitting at my side, leaning against me with one hand on top of mine and the other wrapped around my back. I take a deep breath and glance down at her, and she nods at me reassuringly. We kiss softly as I move our hands south, moving my pants aside and releasing myself with my free hand.

I show her all the places on my body that I know will drive me over the edge—the nerves at my base, at my head, and underneath my sack. Then I move our hands to my shaft and wrap around myself. I slowly start to move up and down, and soon find that Katniss' hand has left me and is now exploring me on her own. She travels back to the spots I showed her before, experimenting with pressing and rubbing on them, and this time it's my turn to shudder.

Her lips move from my mouth to my neck and ears, and I can feel the overpowering sensation that I'm going to lose myself. I strain to keep myself from going overboard too soon, but it's hard to ignore the fact that the woman I've been having wet dreams about for years and years is finally, actually touching me. Not even thinking of dead puppies or the smell of Phyl's gym clothes can help me now. All I can think of is Katniss, Katniss,  _Katniss_ , with her lips on the spot behind my ears and her thumb moving in circles on my head, getting wet with my pre-come, and—are those her fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of my neck?

It all becomes too much, and I turn in to her and bury my head in her neck, completely losing control and groaning, "Oh, shit! Katniss!"

I make sure to angle myself so I come into my shirt and not onto her, and she holds me as I spill my load, panting heavily. Her hands move to rest on my shoulders, and she tilts her head so she can go in for a kiss. It's soft and tender, and I can feel her smiling as her lips press against mine.

I pull back and say with a sigh, "That was better than anything I've ever imagined."

"Good," she tells me, and kisses me softly again.

I carefully discard my shirt, leaving me in only an undershirt, and I think to myself how I'll have to bring a towel or something for next time—even with a light breeze, I would've liked to be able to stay bundled up.

"Are you cold?" Katniss asks me, and I realize I'm rubbing my hands up and down my arms. She scoots closer to me and puts her arms around me, and I am warmed instantly by her being so near.

"Mmm," I hum. "Not anymore. You really are a girl on fire."

She scoffs and shakes her head at my silly comment, and rests her head on my shoulder.

"Peeta," she asks, "Do you think the Avoxes know we come up here?"

"Maybe," I shrug in reply. The thought had crossed my mind once or twice that they could be used both as servants and as spies for the Gamemakers. "Why do you ask?"

"I just… The one that I know, I don't want her having leverage over me."

I look down at her with curiosity. "How do you know her?" I ask. "I mean, besides the fact that she could win a Delly Cartwright lookalike contest."

She laughs at this, and then as she remembers, her expression falls. "Well… we were hunting in the woods one day. Hidden, waiting for game."

"You and your father?" I ask.

"No, Gale and I," she answers. "Suddenly, all the birds stopped singing at once. Except one. As if it were giving a warning call. And then we saw her. I'm sure it was the same girl…. A boy was with her. Their clothes were tattered. They had dark circles under their eyes from no sleep. They were running as if their lives depended on it."

She sits in silence for a moment, staring off into the distance as if she were watching the memory flash in front of her eyes.

"The hovercraft appeared out of nowhere," she continues, looking back at me. "I mean, one moment the sky was empty and the next it was there. It didn't make a sound, but they saw it. A net dropped down on the girl and carried her up, fast—so fast, like the elevator. They… shot some sort of spear through the boy. It was attached to a cable and they hauled him up as well. But I'm certain he was dead." She stops for a moment to collect herself, and then resumes. "We heard the girl scream once. The boy's name, I think…. Then the hovercraft was gone. Vanished into thin air. And the birds began to sing again, as if nothing had happened."

"Did they see you?" I asked, wondering if Katniss thinks the Avox girl recognized her as well.

"I don't know," she replies. "We were under a shelf of rock."

I notice her tremble a little and tell her, "You're shivering." I wrap my arms more tightly around her, only being able to do so much in just an undershirt. I really need to come better prepared next time.

Once her shivering subsides, I ask her, "They were from here?" She nods in response, and I wonder out loud, "Where do you suppose they were going?"

"I don't know that," she replies, shaking her head. "Or why they would leave here."

"I'd leave here," I blurt out. And it's true, I would risk everything so that Katniss and I wouldn't have to be thrown into that arena for the Capitol's enjoyment. The whole system of them controlling who we marry and how many children to have is so fucked up, and thinking about how little freedom I have in the situation makes me more and more angry.

But I suppose without this system, Katniss and I wouldn't have had much of a chance anyway—she said so herself that she would've probably ended up with Gale if not for the Games. So I guess I do have something to be thankful for.

I wish that she and I could be together  _and_  have our freedom though.

"Although," I say, placing a kiss on the top of her head, "there are a few good things about being here."

"Yeah," she responds, understanding the meaning behind my words. "Things I never would've thought I needed back in District 12."

She  _needs_  me!

My heart feels like it's going to burst out of my chest in this moment.

Katniss suddenly pulls away, and I'm confused for a moment only until she reaches out a hand to my neck. She pulls out the chain that my locket is on, saying, "I saw this earlier. What is it?"

"Oh, let me show you," I reply. I press on the latch and the locket opens, revealing the photos of my family. "It was my grandmother's. My family wanted me to have something to remember them, in case I don't return to 12."

"I have something like that," Katniss tells me. "It's in my room. Madge gave it to me. It's a small pin with a mockingjay on it. When she gave it to me, she told me how it suited me because just like a bird, no fence could hold me."

"It does suit you," I agree. "Because you and the mockingjay can both sing so beautifully."

She lets out a sorrowful laugh, "I haven't sung in years." She then turns her attention back to my locket. "Are these your parents?" she asks.

"Yeah, that's them."

"They look so young, and your mother actually looks happy."

"That's what I thought when I saw it!" I chuckle. "I... I found out that they were paired in the Games. Apparently my whole family has been."

"Hmm, well then maybe you're like a mockingjay," Katniss teases. "Thriving, despite being the product of some absurd Capitol project."

"Am I thriving?" I ask woefully. "The Gamemakers don't think so. They think there's some inherent flaw that just won't be bred out of our family."

"Good thing you don't care what they think," she reminds me.

And it is true, that I don't care. If I cared, I wouldn't be planning to do everything in my power to pair with Katniss in the arena.

"Hey, what skill are you planning on showing the Gamemakers?" I ask.

She hesitates for a moment, and then says, "I don't know, maybe how I can bake?" She looks up at me with a smirk, and I laugh at how she has essentially adopted my plan as her own.

"Well then I'll have to show them what I can do with a bow and arrow," I retort. She snickers at me and we lose ourselves in another tender kiss. As we break apart, I whisper to her, "I want to be able to kiss you out in the open."

"Are you sure we should?" she asks.

"Sure," I reply. "Mags and Chaff do it."

"But Mags and Chaff are doing what the Gamemamkers want them to do. Find someone from another district."

I shake my head. "But neither of us want someone from another district. Right?"

"Right. Of course," she agrees adamantly.

"Then who cares? The Gamemakers can't do anything to us."

"Not until we get into the arena."

My mind starts to spin at all the odds against us in that arena: the fact that the Gamemakers weren't impressed with either of us at our first interview, that Cato is planning to go after Katniss, that there are still unknowns of who we would match well with in terms of DNA or skills. And then I think of all the good things we have going for us, like how we're already committed to only each other, or how we impressed the Capitol with our fiery costumes. Maybe we can win the hearts of some sponsors at our interviews with Caesar Flickerman…

"We can't worry about the arena right now," I tell her. "Who knows what's going to happen in the arena. Right now I just want to be able to kiss you anytime I feel like it."

And to make my point, I lean down and give her a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

"Ugh!" she squirms as I try and do it again, laughing and trying halfheartedly to get away. "Peeta! Stop it!"

"Aww, all right, I'll stop," I tell her with a pout.

She kisses me softly and explains; "I think it's safer if we don't look like we're a couple. We'll just fly under the radar, and then get to each other first thing in the arena, and we'll have no problems."

"That could work," I tell her sincerely. If we pair quickly in the arena, we may even be gone before Cato has a chance to get to Katniss. "Great plan, sweetheart," I tell her in my best Haymitch voice.

"Don't ever do that again," she warns, half playful and half serious. "Come on, let's go inside. It's getting cold up here."

"All right."

I grab my crusty come-covered shirt and we head back to the rooftop door and down the stairs to our floor. We are silent the entire way, back to being just two tributes from the same district, and when we reach our doors, we don't look each other in the eye.

"Well, good night," I say.

"Good night," she replies, and enters her room without a sound.

My dreams that night are filled with images of Katniss writhing under me as I slip my fingers in and out of her, as I rub over her clit and make her body quake, as she strokes me and licks the spot behind my ear…

I wake up the next morning drenched in sweat with come all over my sheets. I feel bad for the Avox who will have to launder them, especially after hearing Katniss' story last night. I try to clean them a little with a washcloth and hand soap, but it's no use.

Oh well, I'm sure they're used to the sheets of horny teenagers by now.

At breakfast, the team seems… distracted. Haymitch keeps getting up and leaving the table, and Effie looks distraught as she checks and rechecks her clipboard.

"What's the matter?" Cecilia asks.

"Nothing that concerns you, dears," Effie replies, but it doesn't have that usual singsong quality to it. It's much more grave.

What could've happened to distress even Effie Trinket?

We learn what has everyone so upset once we get to the Training Center, when Mags comes in looking disheveled with her eyes red and puffy.

"Mags, what's wrong?" Katniss asks, rushing to her.

Mags can barely speak. "It's—it's Annie."

"What about Annie?" Rue asks as she and Chaff join us.

"She—she was… was taken."

Katniss' eyes widen. "What does that mean?"

"I found her… having sex with Finnick."

Finnick Odair? Their mentor? The Single?

"And our escort was standing right there too, and he—" She can't finish, and begins sobbing again.

Katniss grabs Mags' shoulders and practically shakes her as she asks, "Mags, what did your escort do with Annie?"

"He called Seneca Crane!" Mags shrieks, and most of the other tributes look in our direction. "And a whole mess of Peacekeepers came, and took them both!"

Mags practically collapses into Katniss's arms, and Chaff steps forward to take her. "Shhh…" he says soothingly as he holds her. "Annie will be all right. They can't just get rid of a tribute halfway through the Games. She'll be back. You'll see."

Chaff and Rue guide Mags toward a platform and they sit there while Mags collects herself. I take a look at Katniss and find her expression full of fear. I reach out to comfort her, and when she notices me getting close, she shakes her head and quickly walks away, leaving me alone.


	10. The Explanation

Chaff is able to leave Mags for a moment after she's calmed down a little in order to talk to me. He walks toward me with a grim look on his face, like even he can't believe what he just heard.

"She still shaken up?" I ask as he approaches me.

"Yeah," he says with a sigh. "I can't believe she kept this all to herself. I mean, she said she was going to tell me, but I guess she didn't plan on anything like this happening to them…"

"How in the world did Annie end up involved with Finnick?" I question as we move away from the rest of the tributes, not wanting them within earshot of our conversation.

"They knew each other before the Games," he explains, "even before his Games. Mags says they fell for each other when Annie was just fourteen, and Finnick was seventeen. He couldn't bear to pair bond with anyone else in his district, and so he ended up in the Reaping. And during the Games, he tried to play by the Gamemakers' rules and made a lot of tributes interested in him, but he still only wanted Annie, so he never actually let any women get close enough to him to consider him as a potential mate. And in the arena, the Gamemakers spun the footage of him to make him look like he was chasing after women, but really he was running from everyone else."

I can't help but think of how tragic it would be if Katniss and I were a few years apart like that, with the system that's in place. We wouldn't even have a chance, and I'd probably consider doing the same thing he did.

But look how it worked out for him…

"Hey," I ask, "is it true that the Capitol… sold his body?"

Chaff's expression contorts into a mix of pain and disgust. "Yeah… they did," he answers. "But first they… I don't—it's too disgusting."

"What is it?"

"They performed some… reconstructive surgery. Basically they castrated and sterilized him, so he couldn't reproduce at all. They do it to all Singles."

My thoughts swirl around me as I try to comprehend what Chaff is telling me.

"They do… what?"

Chaff scoffs, "Come on, Peeta, there's a reason all the Singles in Panem are known for being suicidal or having a drug habit or being generally insane. I had always just thought the Capitol scrambled their brains or something. But it's much worse than that."

I can't seem to keep my mind from racing.

Finnick. Johanna.  _Haymitch_. The terrible fates that they suffered…

"Wait, how did they sell his body if he doesn't have a…"

"Yeah, having one of those myself, I was curious too. Well when Mags walked in on him and Annie, he was wearing some kind of… device strapped around him. She speculated that's what he wore to his Capitol jobs," he explains, his voice full of shame.

"And so, it's true that he tried to kill himself?" I inquire, fitting all the pieces together.

Chaff nods. "But according to Mags, he started writing Annie letters once the next years' Games came around. In the letters, Finnick said he realized that he would mentor the younger tributes, which meant if Annie never pair bonded when she turned eighteen, they would be able to be with each other again."

"Yeah, but look what happened to them. They got caught."

"Yeah… that's why Mags is especially afraid," he says ominously.

"Why is that?"

He sighs, "Because as the years went on, his letters became more and more… cryptic. He would say things like how some of his Capitol friends 'want more than the bread and circuses.' Or how he was 'looking forward to burrowing.' He would sometimes bring up other mentors, and how he 'enjoyed fighting the good fight with them.' Annie would show Mags some of the letters, and they would try and decode their meanings, and Mags always thought that he was into something suspicious. They never could figure out what he meant, but they made sure to note things that seemed important, like who he specifically mentioned by name."

My gaze drops to the floor as I ponder some of what Chaff has just told me. What could those messages mean? What could Finnick be involved in?

"Peeta," Chaff says to get my attention. I look up at him, and he's staring me right in the eye. "Your mentor, Haymitch, was mentioned several times in Finnick's letters."

Haymitch?

 _Haymitch!_  I've got to talk to Haymitch!

"Boys, what are you doing just standing here?" Atala asks, walking up to us and putting her hands on her hips. "You're wasting valuable time that could be used learning new skills."

"Sorry," we both mutter, and walk back toward the various stations. I scan the room and spot Katniss immediately, all by herself at a District 10 station. She's using a replica of a butcher knife to carve out all the fake meat inside a pretend cow. She looks angry.

Chaff rejoins Mags and Rue, who are at a District 4 station, and I'm about to follow him there when someone throws their arm around me.

"Hey, man!" Thresh greets me with a clap on the back. "What was that all about? Why were you talkin' to my man Chaff all serious?"

I suddenly feel ashamed. I can't tell Thresh anything that Chaff just told me, at least until I talk to Haymitch, and I feel disappointed that I have to keep secrets from someone I now consider a close friend.

"Oh, he was just telling me why Mags is so upset," I say, nodding my head in Mags's direction. She's sitting at the District 4 station, the color drained from her face, mindlessly weaving a net. "She, um… just got her menses."

"Man, that's foul," Thresh replies, sticking out his tongue. "No one's gonna touch her in the arena now… Well, except maybe Chaff himself. How fuckin' whipped does he look?"

Thresh nods in their direction, where Chaff is helping Mags untangle a knot she made with the netting. He doesn't look whipped to me. Just thoughtful. It reminds me of how I try to be with—

I glance over to the District 10 station, and I become paralyzed with fear.

I watch Cato as he steps up onto the station's platform, and he puts both his hands on the table and leans toward Katniss, who is standing on the other side. Instantly, she is scrutinizing him and backing away, as if she can sense the danger he poses to her.

Oh  _shit_! Why didn't I warn her sooner? I didn't think he was actually going to  _do_  anything. Why did I think that? I am such a dumbass.

"You're pretty good with that knife," he remarks with a smirk that I'm sure he thinks looks suave, but really just looks creepy. "I'm Cato, by the way. You should come over to the District 2 stations. I'm sure there's a weapon there that you'd enjoy holding in your hands."

The euphemism is not lost on her, as I can see by the look of disgust that crosses her expression.

"Leave.  _Now_ ," she orders.

"You're from 12, aren't you?" Cato continues as if she hasn't said a word. "My older sister's friend, Slater, told me I'd like the ones from 12."

Katniss' eyes widen, and Cato's smirk becomes more menacing.

"Slater would know," he tells her. "After all, she did come home with one when she was in the Games two years ago—"

"You get out of my sight!" Katniss demands, pointing the butcher knife at him. He just laughs, and touches the tip of the blade with his finger.

She must've forgotten it was fake.

"Oh please," Cato laughs as he moves the knife out of his face, "not even a real one could help you now—"

Suddenly, Cato is knocked to the ground, but I quickly realize that it wasn't Katniss who tackled him. I turn my head and find that Thresh is no longer standing next to me. He's instead on the ground, beating the crap out of Cato. They wrestle for a few moments, throwing punches at each other, and finally Thresh pins him and starts wailing on him.

"You messin' with my boy's girl, you messin' with me!" he snarls as his fists connect with Cato's jaw. Cato breaks free of Thresh's hold and lunges at him, grabbing Thresh's arm and twisting it behind his back. Thresh yelps in pain as Cato bends his arm further and further back, until Atala and the other trainers step in.

"That's enough!" she shouts, blowing her whistle. The trainers separate both boys and hold them back as they stare each other down. "There will be plenty of time to fight over girls in the arena, but not now," Atala reprimands them, then addresses the trainers, "Take them both to go get medical attention—we don't need them looking bruised for their interviews. And make sure to take them to separate wings of the clinic."

The other trainers nod and haul Thresh and Cato away in different directions. Cato comes my way, and as I stare at him, he looks up at me, and I can see the realization dawning on his face.

 _I'm_  Thresh's boy.

His expression turns murderous as he passes me, and for a moment I forget how to breathe.

I don't remember going to the other stations that day, or going to lunch. All I remember is feeling swept up in all the chaos that now surrounds me. Where are Finnick and Annie? How is Haymitch involved in all this? How many ways of killing me has Cato thought of already? And of course, the biggest question on my mind: how has all of this affected Katniss?

She makes it very clear throughout the day that she wants to be alone. She doesn't even sit with anyone at lunch. I sit with Mags and Rue and Chaff again, but no one makes any conversation. All I do is stare at her, watching the different emotions play out on her face, and it takes everything in me not to go over to her and hold her comfortingly in my arms.

If I know my Katniss, which I like to think I do, she would be more upset with a public display of affection than with a comforting embrace meant to console her. And so I wait, hoping we will at least get to have some time to ourselves on the rooftop tonight, after we watch the results of the DNA match.

At the end of the day, surprisingly, the district escorts come filing in to the Training Center to pick up their tributes.

"District 12!" Effie Trinket calls to us. "Over here, dears!" We all gather around Effie and she explains to us, her singsong tone back in full force, "The Gamemakers have decided to increase their security measures, and so from now on, you'll all be escorted to your various destinations by myself."

"Why?" Cooley asks.

"Well, dear, there have been some disturbing developments which pose a threat to you dear tributes, and we want to keep you safe, now don't we?"

That sounds like crap to me. 'To keep us safe?' More like keep us imprisoned, even more than we already are.

"Come, dears!" Effie trills, and we follow her to the elevator.

The dinner table is silent that night.

Dynah, Cecilia, and Cooley stay quiet, because while they weren't directly involved in the incidents today, they certainly bore witness to them. And of course neither Katniss nor Haymitch says anything, neither of them being ones for words anyway, but especially not tonight. But what's most surprising is even Effie keeps her mouth shut, uncertain how to avoid the topics of one tribute going missing and another two beating the shit out of each other.

Haymitch's presence does remind me, however, that I need to speak to him alone, and soon.

Once we're dismissed from dinner, Haymitch immediately gets up and stalks off toward his quarters. I stumble out of my seat and try to follow him, but Effie's intricately manicured hands stop me.

"Peeta, dear, I need to speak with you, and with Katniss," she tells me as she grabs my arm, yanking me back to my seat.

Oh no. Did she discover us on the roof last night? Did an Avox tell her?

She sighs dramatically and puts her hands over her mouth, shaking her head. "I don't know where to begin," she says, and I can't help but glance nervously at Katniss. She's staring at the empty place at the table, her face expressionless. Effie continues, "I'm just so concerned about you both. I mean, you've only attended one party! It's like you don't even want to find someone to pair bond with."

Wait, what now?

"That is why I've decided that you are not allowed to opt out of any more social functions," she tells us firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

After a beat, Katniss responds curtly. "Fine," she says, pushing her chair out and walking swiftly toward her room.

"Uh, sure. That's fine," I follow Katniss' lead.

"Oh, good!" Effie cheers, clapping her hands. "I was expecting more objections from you two, but this is just lovely! Well, now that that's settled, I have some business to attend to before the results of the DNA match come on. Excuse me." She stands, grabbing her clipboard, and strutting out of the room triumphantly, leaving me alone at the table.

Ugh! On top of everything that's happened today, now we have to go to a stupid party, instead of getting more practice on the roof.

Not that Katniss seems in the mood to practice anyway…

Then I remember I need to talk to Haymitch. I spring out of my seat and walk as quickly as I can to his quarters. The door is closed, and I knock on it gingerly.

"What!" Haymitch shouts from the other side of the door.

"Um, Haymitch, can I talk to you?" I ask hesitantly.

Haymitch laughs, "Ha! Get lost, fag."

I exhale in a huff, irritated with what is clearly a front. "Haymitch," I start again, trying to remember all that Chaff had told me, "I need to talk to you about… about fighting the good fight."

I hear some rustling and the door to Haymitch's room flies open. He stands there looking disheveled, drink in his hand, scrutinizing me, and then hastily pulls me into his quarters.

"Tell me everything you know," he orders as he sits me down in a nearby desk chair.

"Well, I know about Finnick and Annie," I start.

"Pffft," Haymitch blows a raspberry. "Everyone knows that by now."

"No, I mean, I know their history."

His eyebrow arches and he pulls another chair up to mine. "Continue."

"I know that they were in love before he was in the Games, and he purposefully didn't pair with anyone, and… and I know what they did to him. To all of you."

Haymitch's expression falls. "So, you know about the angry inch," he remarks with a pitiful chuckle, knocking back some of his drink.

"Uh… yeah, I guess. And I know about Finnick's letters to Annie, and the cryptic messages in them. He mentioned you several times."

"Did he now? That son of a…" He shakes his head, and then asks, "That all?"

"I guess so."

"Who told you all this?"

"Chaff."

"From 11? How does he know?"

"He's pretty much paired with Mags, from 4. She's friends with Annie."

Haymitch ponders all this and then tells me, "Fine, you can go now."

What! And leave no closer to figuring out any of this? I don't think so!

"Hell no! I want you to tell me what's going on," I demand.

"Why should I?"

"Because I hate these  _fucking_  Games!" I shout at him. "I know who I love and want to spend my life with, and I  _hate_  having to prove to these Gamemakers that I'm worthy of her, or of anyone. I hate having to compete with guys twice my size, I hate having to see my friends getting beat up, I hate that one has been taken by Peacekeepers, and I hate seeing her like this, as detached from everyone as she ever was…"

My sorrow consumes me as I fall back into the chair with a huff.

"Boy," Haymitch calls me, and I look up to find a curious expression on his face. "Who are you talking about that you love so much?"

"Um… It—it's Katniss."

Haymitch bursts out laughing. "Katniss?  _Our_  Katniss?" he asks in between howls.

"Fine," I spit out, getting out of my chair. "Clearly this was a waste of time. I thought you'd be able to help us, but obviously not—"

"Now hold on!" Haymitch protests, making me sit back down. "Just cause she ain't my type doesn't mean I don't understand young love. Now… does she know about your feelings?"

I nod.

"And she reciprocates?"

I hesitate for second, and then nod again.

"Well, that's half the battle right there," he remarks. "Listen, uh, Peeta. I  _can_  help you. But you cannot tell another soul what I'm about to tell you."

"Not even Katniss?"

"No. That girl plays by her own rules. It'll be better if you can get her to just follow your lead. Now, do you swear not to tell anyone?"

I think about it for a moment, and decide that if Haymitch really can help Katniss and I, then it'll be worth it to trust him.

"I swear," I answer.

"Good. Now, I'm sure a smart boy like you knows that those things in Finnick's letters to Annie were pieces of code. Like, 'fighting the good fight.' That's the code for the growing rebellion, of which Finnick and myself and some others are a part. Give me another one."

"Uh, Finnick said his Capitol friends 'want more than the bread and circuses.'"

"That means there's some Capitol people are involved too. Can't say who though, it's too dangerous. What else?"

"Uhh… Oh! He said he was 'looking forward to burrowing.' What is that one?"

Haymitch runs a hand through his hair and replies, "Now, that I can't tell you, specifically. But I can say it's where we'll escape to."

"We're escaping?"

Haymitch winks in response.

"When is this happening?"

"Can't tell ya that either. The time's not right," he answers, standing and moving to the door. "But what I can tell you, is which tributes you should be talking to."

"Who are they?" I ask as I stand and follow his lead.

He leans in and says softly, "There's another couple just like you and your sweetheart in the Games. They're from District 3. Find them and tell them, 'bread alone will not sustain you.' Say it exactly like that. Now, what was it?"

"Bread won't sustain you?" I answer him questioningly.

"Bread  _alone_! Bread alone will not sustain you," he corrects me, grabbing me by the arms and shaking me.

"Bread alone will not sustain you!" I repeat, the tone in my voice pleading for him to stop rattling me around.

He stops and looks me square in the eye. "Good," he rules, straightening his jacket. "Now come on, it's time for the results of the DNA match. Let's go see who'd mix well with your swimmers." He grabs his drink and rushes out the door, pulling me along with him.

We walk out the living room and find almost everyone assembled on the couches. I'm surprised to even see Cinna and Portia here as well. I make my polite hellos to them and sit near the end of the long sectional next to Portia as Haymitch plops down in the center of the couch. Effie finally arrives with Katniss in tow, and it looks like Effie actually has to prod her along in order to get her to come.

I can barely look at Katniss as she sits between Haymitch and myself, but almost instantaneously I feel alive and vibrating with energy. It's the closest we've been to each other all day, and I've missed her, and it's killing me that I can't just snuggle up with her on this couch and run my hands through her smooth hair, which she's taken out of her braid.

The television clicks on and the announcers greet us, everyone in the Capitol, and all of Panem. They explain that each tribute has contributed a lock of hair—which must've happened during our remake—that contains a complicated strand of our DNA. Capitol scientists have analyzed it and have determined the three best matches that would provide the most variation in our offspring.

"Variation of DNA is one of the keys to survival," the announcers explain. "Those who have DNA too similar to each other run the risk of bearing children who are more susceptible to disease and death."

It's the same explanation every year, although this year it feels different. I know why it does—it may partially determine the fate of the rest of my life, and Katniss' life as well.

I  _really_  hope Haymitch and the couple from District 3 can actually help us.

They announce the tributes one by one, starting with District 1, and naturally, the Careers pair well with each other.

Cato's photo shows up on the screen, and I hold my breath.

Glimmer, District 1.

Lyme, District 2.

Katniss, District 12.

Oh,  _fuck_.

I glance over at Katniss, who everyone is congratulating, and find her glaring at the television screen.

Well, at least she's not happy either.

Thresh and Clove actually do end up being good matches for one another, as do Mags and Chaff. Annie is matched with Gloss, from 1, Blight, from 7, and Woof, from 8. Rue would pair well with Micro, from 3, Titus, from 6, and Jud, from 10. And each of the other girls from 12 gasp and giggle as their names show up as good matches for the various male tributes.

The fox-faced girl from 5 comes up a total of  _seven_  times, which is almost unheard of in the DNA match, but of course, only three of those male tributes are the best match for her.

I end up being a good match for Cashmere, from 1, and Mags, of all people, as well as Twill's friend, Bonnie. But none of these matter.

Especially not when Katniss' photo comes up.

Cato, District 2.

Silo, District 9.

Peeta, District 12.

I… wha?

That's me!

Oh, sweet chocolate cake! We're actually a match!

My photo soon appears, and Katniss is listed for me as well. The group chuckles and cheers at us, and I can feel my cheeks getting hot as I marvel in the fact that the Capitol has announced that even they would approve of our pair bond.

But the mood takes a dive when Katniss abruptly stands and runs from the room.


	11. The Signal

Effie, the girls, and I all ride down the elevator to tonight's party in silence. Cinna managed to get Katniss to come out of her room to rejoin us—by some miracle—but the scowl on her face tells me I probably should give her some space.

I've been giving her space all day though. Doesn't she want a little less space after being apart for so long?

We exit the elevator and end up back at the room where the mixer the first night was. This must be where all the parties are being held. The same flashing lights and pulsating music assaults our senses as we make our way inside, and Effie bids us farewell and tells us she'll be back for us at the end of the night.

I look around the room, and find that the cliques are all mixed up—even the Careers aren't in a big mass like they usually are when we're all together. I don't see Cato, however, and I can't find Thresh in the crowd either, so they both must still be recovering.

Or, maybe they were banned from tonight's party as punishment.

The girls all giggle and point to various boys around the room, and push their way through the crowd to get to them. And that's when I realize that everyone's talking to people whose DNA they were matched with tonight.

Well, everyone except Katniss, who is talking to no one. She's made her way over to a couch in a corner of the room, and when an Avox offers her a drink, she immediately takes it and downs it in a few gulps.

"Hey there," a female voice purrs at me, and I turn to find a beautiful girl with golden curls cascading down her shoulders and large, green eyes staring back at me. "You're Peeta?"

"Uh, yeah."

"I'm Cashmere," she says, smiling seductively and twirling one of her blond ringlets with her finger.

She's in a tight dress that's all tits and curves and I'm not sure where to look, so I settle on the ceiling. This is difficult to maintain though, because she keeps inching toward me, invading my space.

"You know," Cashmere continues, touching my hair lightly, "they said we would pair well together, and now I can see why. We would make gorgeous blond babies, don't you think?"

"Uh…"

She backs me up against a wall and tells me, "I didn't have high hopes for a boy from 12, but you look strong, which is good, cause I like it rough."

Gah, are these words  _really_  coming out of her mouth?

"So," Cashmere sighs, and I can feel her breath on my cheek, "you wanna take me for a test drive and make out a little? If you're good, I might even offer to get you off."

Her tongue darts out and licks my ear, and that's the final straw for me.

I duck and escape from her clutches, and when I turn to face her again, I keep my arms extended out in front of me. I shake my head frantically and tell her, "No, you know, I'm flattered, but, uh… I don't think so. Sorry."

She sighs exasperatedly and replies, "Fine. Can't blame a girl for trying. I'm out of your league anyway." She shrugs and flips her hair back, and struts off.

_Whew!_

I'm not sure what that was, but I'm glad it's over.

I'm afraid to look over and see how much Katniss saw of it, but it's not like that's ever stopped me before. I glance over and find her peering in my direction, her expression resembling desperation, but as soon as she sees me, her gaze drops to the floor.

This is so stupid! I just need to go talk to her. I square my shoulders and am about to make my way over to her, when I feel a hand on my shoulder and someone dragging me backwards.

Oh no, maybe Cashmere reconsidered!

Or maybe someone else is hauling me away to try and have her way with me!

Now I know why I haven't been going to these parties.

"Found him!" a female voice announces as we stop. I turn and find that a girl about my height with black hair has been the one pulling me away. I then glance to the person she addressed, and find a boy with glasses and similar black hair sitting on a couch. The girl pushes me down onto the couch, and then takes a seat on the other side of the boy.

"Peeta Mellark?" the boy inquires.

I nod, unsure what these tributes want. It looks like they're paired, so why do they need me?

I  _really_  hope I'm not about to get hit on by both of them.

"I'm Beetee," he introduces himself, "and this is Wiress. We're from District 3."

District 3?

_Oh!_

"You're a baker, right? You can… bake us bread?" he asks with a raised eyebrow.

Nodding in understanding, I reply in the code Haymitch taught me, "Yeah, but, uh… bread alone will not sustain you."

Beetee and Wiress exchange a glance, and he tells me, "Our mentor told us to find you. She said we're… alike."

"I didn't find him with his mate though," Wiress remarks.

"Where is she?" Beetee asks.

I nod my head in the direction where Katniss is still sitting, and tell them, "She's taking a page from  _our_  mentor's playbook, and drinking away her sorrows. She's… had a hard day."

Beetee's expression falls. "Yeah," he agrees, "It's been difficult for all of us today. Fucking Finnick, not being able to control himself…"

"Do you know what happened to them?" I whisper.

Beetee shakes his head, and says in a hushed tone, "Neither of them are dead, but that's only because they still need to make appearances for the rest of the Games. But they're both being held prisoner somewhere. We have people working on it."

'We have people working on it'? How do they know so much?

"How… how did you two get involved in all of this?" I ask.

"The same way you did, Peeta," Beetee replies. "Wiress and I had feelings for each other for a while, but neither of us had the courage to approach one another until it was too late. But we talked to our mentor, and she convinced us that our best chance for making it out of the arena as a pair bond would be to join…" he lowers his voice even further, "the rebellion."

"You have a leg up on us, though," Wiress adds. "We weren't matched together tonight. Luckily no one's bothered us."

Remembering Cashmere's assault, I exhale in a huff, "You should feel lucky. It's brutal out there."

I look out at the tributes and find a few casually watching my exchange with this couple from District 3, and it makes me nervous. Should we be talking like this out in the open?

"Who else knows?" I ask.

Beetee and Wiress take another quick glance at each other, and Beetee answers, "About five other tributes besides the three of us have varying degrees of knowledge about it, including your friends, Mags, Rue, and Chaff. And the mentors from 3, 4, 8, 10, and 12 are part of it as well. They're trying to recruit the mentor from 11, since Chaff is so involved with Mags now."

Wiress leans in, adding, "And, we have some people on the inside as well."

"Like, district escorts? Gamemakers?"

"No, don't even speculate!" Beetee hushes me. "Their lives are much more at stake than ours. But this is where the next part of our plan comes in."

"What plan?"

"Our spy needs to know who is an ally, and so when we present our skills to the Gamemakers tomorrow, we need to give a signal to indicate that we're part of the rebellion."

I ask them, "What's the signal?"

Wiress starts to giggle, and Beetee gives me a grin. "It should be easy for you to pull off," he tells me. "The signal is bread."

"Bread?"

"Each tribute who is on our side needs to incorporate bread somewhere into their skills test."

"How? Why?"

Beetee puts his finger to his lips, hinting for me to keep my voice down. "That's for everyone to figure out for themselves. Wiress is going to draw up blueprints for an industrial impingement oven, and I plan to fashion a bomb out of a bread maker."

"So just make sure you bake them something yummy," Wiress says with a wink.

"Yeah…" I reply halfheartedly. The baker's son stereotype strikes again. Then I realize I need to tell Katniss about all of this, or at least get her to figure out a skill to show that will signal the spy that she's an ally.

I glance around the room and find her still sitting on the couch in the corner on the other side of the room, several empty drinks around her. Looks like I'll have to make sure she doesn't drink herself into oblivion first.

"Uh, I have to go. Is there anything else I should know?"

"Not right now," Beetee replies. "We'll keep you informed."

"Thanks," I say, standing up to leave them.

"Keep fighting the good fight," Wiress tells me.

I nod at her and make my way through the crowd. I reach Katniss just as she's about to take yet another cocktail from an Avox.

"Woah, I think I'll drink this next one for you," I say as I grab the glass just as her hand reaches for it.

She huffs in protest, "I don' need yer help. I don' need  _annone_. I'm  _fine_."

"Sorry, I can't understand you. You're slurring your words a little," I tell her as I sit next to her and take a sip of the beverage.

Ugh, it burns on the way down.

"Whaddoyou  _want_?" she asks, giving me the stink eye, and I sigh at her. I hate seeing her like this, clearly hurting but too stubborn to do anything about it.

I take her hand in mine and look her in the eye, trying to be as serious as possible. "Look, I know it's been… a shitty day," I begin, and she scoffs. "But if you trust me, you'll listen to what I have to say."

"G'on," she says, gesturing with her hand for me to continue.

Remembering that Haymitch didn't want her knowing too much, I try to tell her as much as I can without giving her an opportunity to take matters into her own hands.

"There is something bigger than us going on," I say quietly. "Something we can be a part of. Something that will give us our freedom. Do you want to be a part of it?"

"Our… freedom?"

"From the Capitol."

She gives me a look that is half scared and half skeptical, and then finally forces out an answer. "Yes," she tells me. "Of  _course_  I wan' freedom. But whaddo we haf'ta do?"

"The first thing we have to do is give a signal to our spy tomorrow during our skills test that we're allies."

"Okay… Wha's the signal?"

I laugh humorlessly, "It's, uh… bread, of all things."

"Bread."

"I know," I reply, shaking my head. "It's almost ironic. You still planning on showing them how you can bake?" I ask with a wink.

"Tha' wassa  _joke_ , Peeta," she enlightens me, as if I didn't know it already.

She must not have seen the wink.

She sighs, "I have  _no_  idea whad I'monna do."

I squeeze her hand and tell her, "I know you'll figure something out." I lean in and kiss her on the cheek, and find that she tastes salty. I pull back and find a few tears streaming down her face. "Katniss, what's wrong?"

Her breathing becomes shallow and ragged, and she can't look me in the eye as her worries come tumbling out of her mouth: "I jus can' stop thinkinabout Annie and Finnick, and if they'll be alrigh'. An' thadguy today, Cato, I hav'  _such_  a bad feelinabout him, an' he an' I were a match! An'  _you_  an' I were a match! An' I really juss wanna be alone wif you insteadda here wif all dese people. An' now, you tell me there'ssassecret thing that we're gonna be a pardof, and I don' know whad iddis or whad I haf'ta do for it. An' I arrready had no idea whaddo show the Gammmakers tomorrow, and now I haf'ta incorporrrrate  _bread_  indo it! An' all I wanna do is go home to my moller an' Prim, but I  _can'd_!"

She then collapses and falls onto my shoulder, sobbing quietly. I fold my arms around her gently and stroke the hair that falls on her back.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "I dunno wha's happenin to me."

"It's okay," I reply, and hold her tighter. "I told you I would be there for you if you needed someone to vent to."

"You kep' yer promiss," she remarks, then asks shyly, "Stay wif me?"

"Always."

I want to tell her that that I'm sorry for not telling her about Cato sooner, and that there's already someone on the inside working on busting Finnick and Annie out of their prison, and that we're all going to escape to somewhere underground, and she and I will get to live happily, along with her mother and sister. I want to tell her how I'll try to protect her from any danger, and how I'm glad she trusts me enough to let me back in.

But I can't say any of that. Not right now at least, when she's so drunk she won't be able to have a serious conversation about it. So I simply plant a small kiss on her neck, and feel her grip on me tighten for a second before releasing me and wiping her eyes.

I make Katniss drink a few glasses of water, despite her protests, and she's sobered up some by the time Effie and the other district escorts come to get us. I make sure to point out Beetee and Wiress to her on our way out, and tell her that Mags, Chaff, and Rue know about the rebellion as well. It comforts her a little that her friends are involved, but when I tell her Haymitch is also part of the group, she groans and rolls her eyes.

We turn on our façade once we join the rest of the District 12 tributes, who thankfully didn't notice us when Katniss was drunk and hysterical. Or, maybe they did and they're just not saying anything about it. Either way, I'm grateful.

It doesn't dawn on me though, until I'm alone in my room, getting ready for bed:

Since we're mandated to go to the parties every night now, we may never get any more practice until the arena.

Well,  _fuck_.

Arenas fill my dreams that night.

They're all from years' past: a rocky desert, a tropical island, the ruins of a civilization long gone… In each one, I find myself standing on the platform, looking frantically around for Katniss, but I can't see her. The gong sounds, and I witness some pairs of tributes—like Chaff and Mags, and Beetee and Wiress—running away together, while other tributes fight at the cornucopia over mates and supplies.

Then I see Cato scoop up a girl into his arms and take off, and I know that the girl he's taking is Katniss. I can hear her screaming, 'Bread! Bread!' as a signal for me to save her, for the rebellion to save her, but before I can act, I'm tackled to the ground by Cashmere. She gives me a menacing smile and shows me some rope, and then whispers to me, "If you thought that was rough, wait till you feel this!"

Each time I jolt awake, I have to check to make sure my hands and feet aren't bound together.

By the time morning comes, I am a wreck, barely having slept at all. Not even the beautiful sunrise over the shining Capitol makes me feel any better.

When Effie escorts us down to the Training Center after breakfast, we find all the tributes waiting outside, sitting grouped according to district. Capitol attendants walk around keeping everyone in order, and it seems like everyone is on edge, silently going over the skills they're going to present.

Thresh and Cato are back, but there is still no sign of Annie.

Effie directs us to sit near District 11, and I take a seat next to Thresh.

"Hey, how are you?" I ask quietly.

"No talking!" an attendant chastises us, pointing a finger, and then keeps walking down the hall.

After he's out of earshot, Thresh replies, "I'm all right, man. They were able to make me look pretty again. Can't you tell?"

"Oh yeah, definitely," I laugh. I notice a few small cuts near his left eye and on his lip, but if I hadn't seen it for myself, I wouldn't have even known he was in a fight. As I examine his face, I can't help but wonder out loud to him, "Thresh, why did you do that yesterday? I mean, I appreciated it, but aren't you worried about Cato getting you back?"

"Shit, no. That guy's a tool," Thresh scoffs. "And you're my wingman, and I knew seein' that jackass near your woman would trip you out. So I stepped in so that he wouldn't know it was you."

"Yeah, well…" I glance up and find Cato glaring in our direction, and I feel like I'm going to throw up. I swallow the lump in my throat and tell him, "I think he figured it out anyway."

Thresh steals a glance at Cato and then replies, " _Fuck_ , I think you're right. I'm sorry, Peet, I didn't mean for that to happen."

An attendant calls for the names of each tribute to present their skills one by one, and luckily she calls Cato's name next. He stands and cracks his knuckles, and walks into the Training Center pounding his fists into the palms of his hands.

"Don't worry about him, man. Even if he goes after you, you know I got your back," Thesh reassures me, patting my shoulder. Then he asks, "So, what's skills you plannin' on showin' off?"

"Something with bread, of course," I tell him, and then I notice Beetee siting down the hall gesturing frantically at me, giving me all sorts of signals to shut the hell up.

What the…?

"Gonna put those baking skills to good use, eh? Nice," Thresh replies, and that's when I realize that he doesn't know a damn thing about the rebellion, and if I'm interpreting Beetee's gestures correctly, Thresh isn't  _supposed_  to know anything.

But… I thought since Chaff and Rue knew…

I suddenly feel immense sorrow for my wingman, who it turns out is  _not_  an ally.

"I'm gonna show them what I can do with those weapons," Thresh continues. "Make it look like I would belong in District 2, hopefully get a score close to Clove's… then I'd be golden."

"Good plan," I say flatly.

"What's up, dude?" he asks, noticing the change in my tone.

I shake my head and tell him, "Oh, nothing." And then we both grow silent, neither of us having anything more to say to each other. We stay like this through the turns of the tributes from Districts 2 and 3.

Suddenly, a gasp breaks the silence, and Katniss jumps out of her seat.

"Annie!" she cries, and I turn to see Annie being led to the Training Center by two Peacekeepers. She looks worn out, like she hasn't gotten sleep in days, and she walks with sort of a funny limp, wincing with each step she takes.

She has tears in her eyes, and it makes me feel like even the slightest touch will break her into a thousand pieces.

The Peacekeepers deliver her to the attendant reading off the names, and they announce her arrival. The attendant motions for her to go in, and the Peacekeepers shove her through the door forcefully, laughing when she falls down inside.

I look back at Katniss, and find that she's about ready to explode with rage—her teeth are clenched, her hands are balled into fists, and her whole body tremors slightly as if she's willing herself not to lunge at those bastard Peacekeepers. An attendant tells her to sit down, and it takes a while for her to process the command and actually follow it.

I manage to make eye contact with her and plead with her silently, wishing I could tell her to just focus on our plan of allying with the rebellion and not trying to help Annie right now. It's hard to convey this all without actually speaking to her, but eventually I see her face soften and her breathing return to normal, and she closes her eyes and nods at me in understanding.

Despite everything, I do enjoy how close we've become that we can communicate with just a look.

The Peacekeepers need to go into the Training Center to retrieve Annie, and after she is dragged away, the wait for our turns becomes mind numbing. At lunch, Katniss and I sit with Rue and Chaff, and no one really has anything to say after seeing the state Annie is in. And I'm sure the thing on everyone's mind is what's on mine: how crucial this skills test is, on so many different levels.

More than anything, the skills tests are what sponsors use the most to determine which tributes would be a successful match for each other. After showing off his or her skills, each tribute is awarded a score up to twelve points, and those within one point of each other are considered to be a good match for one another. That way, those who are very good at what they do are more likely to be paired with one another, and those without any marketable skills are less likely to be paired and more likely to be killed if they are left over.

Not to mention, we all have to signal our spy that we're allies of the rebellion, without giving away too much to the Gamemakers.

I barely even touch my food, feeling too nervous to keep anything down.

It's almost the end of the day by the time they reach our turn, what with District 12 being last for everything. We again go in alphabetical order, which means Katniss is up first. She rises from her seat determinedly, and strides through the Training Center doors. I let out a shaky breath, hoping that she'll do well.

No, not that she'll do well; that she'll do as well as I do, so we'll have matching scores.

Suddenly, I hear Katniss' voice coming through some loud speakers from within the Training Center. She is so crystal clear that I look to the Training Center doors, expecting her to be standing right there.

"Katniss Everdeen," she introduces herself. "District 12."

I hear her take a deep breath, and then my heart melts as she begins to sing, soft and low:

_I woke up this morning, a funny taste in my head.  
_ _Spackled some butter over my whole grain bread.  
_ _Something tastes different, maybe it's my tongue.  
_ _Something tastes different, suddenly I'm not so young._

I laugh to myself at how she over pronounced the word 'bread,' hoping that was enough for our spy to pick up on. And as she continues, her voice gets stronger, more confident.

_I'm just a stranger, even to myself.  
_ _A re-arranger of the proverbial bookshelf.  
_ _Don't be a fool girl, tell him you love him.  
_ _Don't be a fool girl, you're not above him._

_I never thought I could love anyone but myself.  
_ _Now I know I can't love anyone but you…  
_ _But you make me think that maybe I won't die alone.  
_ _Maybe I won't die alone._

As I listen to the words, and hear the emotion in her voice as she sings them, I quickly realize that she's expressing everything she's been going through since I found her in the meadow near the outskirts of District 12 just a few days ago. How my confession of my feelings for her, and her discovery of her feelings for me, is actually confusing and frightening to her.

_What have I become?  
_ _Something soft and really quite dumb.  
_ _Because I've fallen, 'cause I've fall-fallen, 'cause I've fall-fall-fallen  
_ _So far away from the place where I started from._

_I never thought I could love anyone.  
_ _I never thought I could love anyone.  
_ _I never thought I could love anyone,  
_ _But you, but you, but you, but you, but you…  
_ _But you make me think that maybe I won't die alone.  
_ _Maybe I won't die alone._

Her final note hangs in the air, and I can hear her shallow breathing through the speakers.

"Hey!" she shouts, then it sounds like she knocks the microphone, and then there is silence again. A few minutes later, she storms out of the Training Center, looking madder than ever.

"Katniss! What happened?" I ask, immediately jumping up and stopping her before she can run off, placing my hands on her shoulders.

I can feel her trembling with rage.

"Katniss," I say again, and she finds my eyes.

"What?"

"What happened in there?"

"They… they weren't paying attention to me. So I shot an arrow at them."

"You did what!" Dynah exclaims, butting in on our conversation. She stands and throws her arms up as the other girls look on. "Are you some kind of crazy person? You know we still have to go in there after you, right? They'll blacklist everyone from 12 for sure!" she cries.

Katniss glares at Dynah, shrugging me off and approaching her like she's getting ready to squish her like a bug. Never breaking eye contact, she spits out, "Dynah, mind your own  _fucking_  business."

And as she stomps off toward the elevators, the only clear thought I have is how good she's getting at looking at people when she talks to them.

Oh, and how royally screwed we are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song Katniss sings is "Die Alone" by Ingrid Michaelson.
> 
> I've created a playlist of songs from and inspiration for this fic, at: http://pl.st/p/23223287819


	12. The Change

"Peeta Mellark," the Capitol attendant calls to me.

I take a deep breath and rise from my seat outside the Training Center. I'm the second to last tribute to present my skill to the Gamemakers, and after hearing Katniss sing for the first time in years, I've finally figured out what I'm going to show them.

"Good luck, Peeta," Dynah offers, and I manage a grimace in reply. I'm still kind of pissed at how she went off on Katniss like that, but she couldn't possibly know how strong my ties to Katniss are, so I try to be cordial.

I walk through the Training Center doors and take a look at all the stations around me. I know what station I'm going to, but I can't help but feel that by choosing this one skill, I'm closing the doors to several other fates that may or may not bring me happiness. And I can't help but grieve at the loss of them.

I trust what I'm about to choose, though; I know it's the best chance for Katniss and I to remain together.

I announce my presence and approach the blank canvas of the painting station reverently, as I did on that first day of training. Unlike last time, when I let my mind wander, I am creating a very purposeful scene today. And instead of the bright, vivid colors of the woods, I'm using mostly grays and shadows.

I'm creating a symbol. It's my signal to the spy. It's my original act of rebellion. It's my heart and my devotion.

It's burned bread, thrown into the rainy street, waiting for Katniss to claim it.

As I brush the marks on the canvas, my mind drifts back to that day. I knew what I did would get me punished, but I was more scared at the thought of losing Katniss than I was at the thought of the yardstick. And really, every decision I've made since then, I've been making based on those two fears: the fear of being punished, or the fear of losing the person I love most in this world.

I let the fear of being punished rule me for far too long, and I realize I never want to be ruled by that fear again. I will risk anything and everything if there is a chance that she and I will be safe and free together.

When I finish, I thank the Gamemakers, who dismiss me promptly, and I quietly exit.

Dynah stands as I come through the doors, and she looks petrified for her turn. I nod at her as I go by, and make my way to the elevators. I'm trembling now, second-guessing myself, stupidly worrying that what I did was too forward or too obvious.

Why oh why didn't I just paint a happy scene of my father serving customers at the bakery? Or my older brothers showing a younger me how to knead dough? No, instead I painted a big fucking loaf of burned bread. They'll see right through that for sure.

No, I won't be afraid of punishment anymore, I think to myself as I ride the elevator up to the top floor. I'll accept whatever happens to me now.

But still, the doubt creeps in.

There's no way my painting was as good as Katniss's singing. Then again, shooting an arrow at the Gamemakers may get her a zero, so let's hope they think my painting sucks.

No, I can't think like that. I don't care about the scores…

Well, maybe I care a little.

Ugh, I'm so screwed.

I exit the elevator and am immediately assaulted by Haymitch.

"Hey, what the—"

"Just, shut up. Come with me."

He grabs me forcefully and drags me to his quarters, shoving me into the desk chair and taking a long pull from his flask.

"What do you think you were doing telling the signal to that boy from 11?" he snarls at me.

The signal to…  _oh!_

"Thresh?" I question. "I thought Thresh knew."

"Well he doesn't!"

"But… Chaff and Rue know."

"Those two only know because they are so intertwined with the girls from 4," he explains, pulling up a chair and taking another drink from his flask.

"But… why can't Thresh know?" I ask timidly.

Haymitch sighs, looking annoyed that he has to spell this all out for me. "Because, he's going after that girl from 2, who is a real Career Tribute. And those Careers are the Capitol's pets. And when his cock has control of his brain, who knows what kind of sensitive information he'll let slip."

"Oh," is all I can say in reply.

"Yeah… 'Oh.' You're lucky bread is your thing, or else you could've ruined our years of hard work."

So Thresh really  _can't_  know about the rebellion, which means whether I like it or not, our friendship is finite. A wave of sadness crashes over me for the umpteenth time today.

"Hey," Haymitch calls me, and I look up to find a hesitant look on his face. He punches me in the arm, trying to comfort me, and reminds me, "He's not the one you want to fuck, right?"

I roll my eyes, but I know what he means. I love Katniss, and chose the rebellion in order to be with her, and in the end, she's the most important thing to me.

I shake my head in agreement, and Haymitch laughs, "Well that's good. Come on, it's time for dinner."

We exit his room and walk to the dining table, and we can hear Effie's disdainful tone the entire way there. As we get closer, I catch more and more of what she's going on about:

"Really, I cannot believe this. Such insolent behavior! How dare you treat the Gamemakers that way—they are helping you!"

"They weren't even paying attention to me," Katniss defends herself. She sounds frustrated, which I certainly would feel in her shoes. It's been a rough couple of days, and Effie Trinket can be a tough person to debate with.

"You were  _singing_!" Effie retorts. "They didn't have to look like they were paying attention, because they were using their  _ears_."

"They were crowded around a stupid roast pig," Katniss growls, and as we round the corner and lay eyes upon everyone, Cinna and Portia included, I can clearly see Katniss's fists clenched.

Effie huffs and then calls to Haymitch as we join the group, "Haymitch, don't you have anything to say to your tribute?"

Haymitch gives her a thumbs up, an impish grin on his face, and tells her, " _Great_  job, sweetheart. Tell me, what—what were their faces like?"

As I sit across from her, I notice her steal a glance or two my way, and see a flicker in her eyes. She looks… distracted, almost.

She fumbles with her response to Haymitch. "What—oh, um… Shocked. Terrified. Uh… ridiculous, some of them," she replies, trying to suppress a smile as she remembers. "One man tripped backward into a bowl of punch."

Haymitch and the rest of the girls giggle, and Effie rolls her eyes.

"You're not helping, Haymitch," she chastises him.

"Like I give a shit. Lighten up a little, Eff," he tells her, still chuckling, probably at the image of a Gamemaker falling into a punch bowl. I know that's why I'm still laughing.

"Well will you give a—will you  _care_  if she gets a poor score?" Effie asks, hands on her hips.

"It depends on which skill they choose to score her on," Portia comments, turning to Katniss. "Considering your aim, I imagine you'd get a high score on your archery skills."

I want to tell them all she'd get a twelve for her singing too, but I know she would think that's too forward, so I keep my mouth shut. I sneak a glimpse at her though, and find her regarding me as well, and when we spy each other, both our eyes drop to our plates.

What is going on with her? She usually never looks at me to avoid suspicion, but something is up tonight.

Effie abandons her tirade and dinner passes pleasantly enough after that, each of the girls talking about the skills they demonstrated today and making predictions about what scores they'll get.

I try to stay quiet and fade into the background, but eventually we come to the unavoidable question.

"Peeta, what skill did you show the Gamemakers?" Effie asks.

"Oh, I uh… I painted something."

Everyone looks impressed, and Portia remarks, "A Capitol skill!"

"Well, it looks like we have  _two_  tributes with Capitol skills…" Effie adds sourly.

"What did you paint?" Cecilia asks.

I shrug and tell them, "Just a memory from District 12." I try not to look at Katniss as I say it, but I can feel her staring at me. "I'll probably get a four."

"No, I'm sure you did well," Cinna encourages with a smile. "It sounds like you all did very well. Should we make our way to the television to find out?"

"Excellent idea, Cinna," Effie agrees, rising from her set and motioning for everyone to do the same.

We all take our seats on the couch, and tonight, Katniss sits close enough for our arms to brush up against each other, and for me to be able to smell the scent of her hair. It's been far too long since we've even kissed, and I can feel myself getting excited at her proximity.

The television flicks on and the announcers welcome everyone to tonight's broadcast. They explain that we tributes have been training for the past three days in various district skills, as well as some Capitol ones, and the scores they announce tonight, ranging from zero to twelve, twelve being the highest, are based on the skill we chose to demonstrate to the Gamemakers. They wish everyone good luck and jump right in to District 1.

Of course, all the Careers have high scores. Cato even scores a ten, which makes me wish even more that Katniss's hotheadedness earns her something low, and that my painting gives me something small as well.

Beetee and Wiress get twin sixes, and Mags earns a nine.

Annie is given a zero, which is clearly not a reflection of her capabilities, and as far as I know, a first for the Mating Games.

I can feel Katniss shift beside me and let out a shaky breath, still worried about Annie, and her score, and a million other things, and so I slip my hand into hers and give her hand a squeeze. We don't dare to look at each other, but she gives my hand a squeeze back in response.

Rue receives a seven, Chaff earns an eight, and Thresh gets a ten.

He must be happy, scoring so close to Clove.

Then Katniss's photo comes on the screen, and I hold my breath as an eleven flashes with her name.

_An eleven!_

I'm simultaneously elated and humiliated, both for the same reason.

I always knew Katniss was multitalented, the whole package, and way out of my league, and this proves it's true.

And for some reason, since she herself couldn't see that it was true, I tricked myself into believing I was worthy of her. But clearly I'm not, as evidenced by the eight flashing across my name, a whole three points away from her.

Now  _I_  feel like running from the room, but I don't. I stay put as everyone around me congratulates each other on their scores.

"Tributes, allow me to escort you to tonight's social gathering to celebrate," Effie gestures to the elevators, and the girls all scramble off the couch to follow her.

Katniss squeezes my hand once more and lets go, standing to catch up to the rest of the group, but I stay planted in my seat, staring off into space. I keep seeing Katniss's eleven flashing before my eyes, haunting me.

"Hey," Haymitch calls to me. I glance over to where he's still sitting and find we're the only ones left in the room. "Those scores don't matter. They  _won't_  matter. Our spy knows you're both allies, and we're planning to rescue you both before those scores will even have a chance to matter."

I sit there a moment, digesting his words. I still feel like I'm not deserving of Katniss, but I can't ignore all the signals she's been sending me, like sneaking glances at me all through dinner, or holding my hand here on the couch, or even the song she sang today. And maybe, as long as we both have feelings for each other, that really is all that matters.

I nod at Haymitch and tell him, "Thanks."

"Get outta here," he replies, getting up and lumbering off to his quarters.

I catch up to Effie and my fellow tributes at the elevator, and I steal a glance at Katniss as we all ride down together. She still looks distracted, like she's deep in thought, and now I notice her cheeks are flushed as well. The expression is such a new one to me—I've seen it maybe once or twice before tonight…

And then it comes to me.

She's turned on. And doing a very poor job of hiding it.

Oh my…

I  _need_  to teach her to hide her arousal better, because looking at  _her_  being turned on is turning  _me_  on. And unless I'm mistaken, we're supposed to  _not_  act like we want each other in public.

Katniss glances up at me, and now I can clearly see the desire burning in her eyes, and I'm a fucking goner. I no longer care what kind of a scene we make, only caring that I get to touch her and taste her and feel her, and  _soon_.

Effie drops us off at the party, and after we get inside, I immediately grab Katniss's hand. Her touch feels electric, and she smiles at me with that same fire still blazing, and it makes me want to worship her body until I get to see the exquisite face she makes when she comes apart in my arms. I gently pull her toward me, and she moves in willingly until there is no more space between us.

My hands fall to her hips, and she presses into me as she leans in and whispers in my ear, "Not here."

I almost whimper in response.

She takes my hand and begins to lead me to a dark corner of the room, and I can feel my heart pounding out of my chest. All I can think about how badly I want her, and how soon I'll get to have her.

Which is probably why I don't notice Cato until he forcefully pushes me to the ground.

I land with a thud, and then all the air leaves my lungs as Cato presses his huge foot down on my chest, effectively pinning me to the ground. I'm helpless as I watch him take Katniss's hand and spin her around so that she can look at him.

"Well, an eleven," he remarks as Katniss takes in the scene. Her eyes widen in fear, and then they begin to burn with a very different emotion: anger. Cato continues, "There's only two kinds of skills you could've shown the Gamemakers with a score like that. The first kind is combat. And the second kind, well…" He leans in and whispers in her ear, and for a moment she looks frozen in shock.

Until her anger takes over again, and she knees him right in the balls.

He topples over like a ton of bricks, landing next to me on the ground, writhing in pain. Wanting to get out of the way of his potential wrath more than anything, I quickly get off the ground and stand next to Katniss, who is now towering over him, looking at him like I imagine she looks at her kills before she  _really_  puts them out of their misery.

"It was combat," she tells him, and kicks him hard in the balls again, attracting the attention of most f the other tributes. He yelps in pain, and she warns him as several Capitol attendants rush to the scene, "Don't  _ever_  forget that."

"Miss, you're going to have to leave," an attendant tells her, and after a quick glance in my direction, she nods her head and goes with them.

"Woah, she took him  _down_ ," Mags comments, coming out of nowhere. "Come on." She tugs on my arm and leads me to where she, Chaff, and Rue are sitting.

Their company doesn't compare to Katniss, but they're acceptable. Mags regales the rest of the group of how Katniss practically cracked Cato's nuts, and Chaff and Rue share the news that their mentor has joined 'the good fight,' and that they're looking into the tribute that Seeder has her eye on, to see if they both can be trusted.

I lament about not being able to tell Thresh, but Rue and Chaff agree with Haymitch.

"I thought we'd be able to convince him to go after Twill, since the mentor from 8 is involved," Chaff says, "but he is dead set on Clove."

"I also think he wants a military career," Rue adds. "As in, fighting  _for_  the Capitol."

"He could easily have a military career with us," I argue.

Chaff shakes his head, "Peeta, that boy has two brains, and not enough blood to power both of them at the same time. We could never trust him."

Looks like this issue is not up for debate.

We spend the rest of the night chatting, and they almost help me take my mind off Katniss, but I can't help but feel defeated as I ride the elevator back up to the top floor with the other District 12 girls, thinking of how another night of practice has been lost.

That is, until I open the door to my room, and find Katniss lying in my bed.

"Uh, hi," I manage to stutter out.

"Hi," she replies with a smirk.

"Am I in the right room?"

"Yes. I snuck in here after Effie lectured me." She gets out from under the covers, and I try to keep myself under control when I see that she's only in a thin nightgown that barely comes down to the midpoint of her thighs. She tells me plainly, "Just because I had an encounter with that creep doesn't mean I don't still want you."

"Well, that's good to know," I say as I kick off my shoes as fast as I can and join her on the bed. I cover her lips and neck with kisses and tell her, "It was so hot how you kicked him in the balls."

She snorts, "As a man with a pair of balls, shouldn't you be a little more… terrified?"

"Probably. I'm not though," I say with a shrug in between kisses. "Can't explain why. Doesn't matter. Just go with it."

"Works for me," she laughs, and then pulls me down so we're lying on the bed.

We lose ourselves in each other, relearning each other's touch and smell and taste. It's overwhelming, and makes me realize how badly I've wanted her near me in these past two days.

Yes, that makes me sound pathetic, but it's entirely true.

"I've missed you," I sigh.

She pulls back for a moment to look into my eyes, and tells me, "I've missed you too."

Our lips crash together, more passionately this time, and it feels so good that I forget why we even stopped our exploration of each other in the first place—

Wait, now I remember.

"Katniss," I whisper. "You're not worried about any hidden cameras? About the Gamemakers making our lives hell in the arena?"

"Of course I am," she replies as she creates a trail of kisses from my jaw to my earlobe. Then she breathes into my ear, "I'm just _really_  tired of playing the Games by their rules."

Then, hesitantly, she sits up and moves her hands to either side of her nightgown, and I let out a shuddering exhale as I realize what exactly she's doing.

In one swift movement, the scrap of fabric is on the floor, and she's sitting in front of me in just a pair of panties.

Oh  _fuck_ , where do I look? Can I look at her tits? Do I have to keep looking into her eyes? Phyl, Rye, how do I proceed?

Katniss luckily answers those questions for me.

"You can look, Peeta. That's why I took it off in the first place."

I scoff; "Well, I mean… if you insist…" and I let my eyes drift downward slowly, trying not to make a big deal out of the whole thing—

Sweet apple pie, Katniss's boobs!

Ugh, they're so small and perky with little tan nipples that I just want to run my tongue all over… Am I drooling a little bit?

I glance back up and find Katniss looking… embarrassed of all things.

Oh no, I ogled too much. I fucked everything up.

"Gah, Katniss, I'm sorry," I sputter out;  _really_  trying not to let my eyes wander downward. "I just, uh…"

She laughs a little and tells me, "No, it's um… I like how you look at me. I just… can't get over how much I like it."

Oh.

"Oh, well in that case—" I lean in and stare right at them purposefully, and this makes her laugh, which makes them jiggle a little, which makes me even more mesmerized.

It is the best vicious cycle  _ever_ , and makes me feel even bolder.

"Can I, um," I clear my throat, suddenly hoarse, and try to ask again, "Would you like it if I touched them?"

She tries and fails to control her smile as she replies, "Probably. Only one way to find out."

She lies back on the bed, putting her arms up over her head and allowing me full access to her beautiful breasts. I start out gently, lying next to her on my side, just moving one hand between her soft mounds like we had done the other day. It's amazing how different this feels though, without any barriers of clothing. Katniss sighs, and I experiment with being firmer, and roll her nipples in between my thumb and forefinger.

She really seems to like that. Her hips buck a little whenever I do it.

Suddenly, I feel very self-conscious of how many pieces of clothing I'm wearing, which now feel much too constricting, so I sit up for a moment and pull my shirt off.

Katniss smirks, glancing down for a fraction of a second at my body, and asks, "Too warm?"

"No, just…" I shrug in reply. "I think we need to have a more equal amount of clothing on."

"Oh, well," she says, leaning forward and pulling my belt out of its buckle, "then these pants need to go too."

I try and keep myself together as she unbuttons and unzips me the rest of the way, but I end up looking like an idiot as I flail around trying to get the pants down my legs.

Thank goodness she finds it endearing instead of disturbing.

Once I'm down to only my underwear, I am immediately back at her side, relishing the feel of my skin touching hers. I plant kisses on her neck and collarbone, and then find I can work my way south into new territory. I brush my lips against her hardened nipple, and look up to find her watching me hungrily, so I use my tongue next time. She inhales sharply, and then lets out a soft, low moan, which is fuel for my fire.

I shift myself so I can reach the other one, ending up hovering over her with one leg in between hers, and she wraps her arms around me and pulls my torso down so my body is flush with hers.

She grinds up against me, and I can feel how wet she is through her underwear, and for a moment I almost swear I'm dreaming. I have the urge to ask her if this is even real, but I figure I'd just better enjoy myself, just in case it's not.

I look up at her and find her gazing at the ceiling with a weird look on her face, and so I ask, "Is this still good?"

She finds my eyes and smiles bashfully as she tells me, "Oh, yeah, um… I just…" She presses against my leg again, and then it dawns on me that she wants more than just what I've been focusing on.

"Oh," I say.

"Yeah," she chuckles in reply.

I lean in and kiss her passionately, and move my weight to one hand as the other slides downward, making sure to enjoy the feel of her soft skin along the way.

As I reach the waistband of her panties, I really try to concentrate on what my brothers told me to do, and watch for her reaction to see if what I'm doing is actually working.

She writhes underneath me as I work my way into her delicate folds. I lean down to put my mouth on her beautiful breasts and then happen to find her clit at the same time, and she actually moans my name when I press down on it.

Her saying my name like that is the  _hottest_  thing in the world.

I move my hand even lower, and have to adjust my body in order to angle myself better for what I want to try next. I feel my way around her until I come across a dip, and I know instinctively this is what I'm looking for. I slowly ease my finger in, letting her walls surround it, and watch for any response she gives.

Katniss is staring back at me with an intensity I've never seen from her before, anxious to see what I'll do. I gently curl my finger toward myself, hitting her front wall, and she squirms and whimpers at the touch.

"Did—did you like that?" I whisper to her, and she can only stammer and nod her head in reply as I try it once more.

 _My_  touch is doing that to her.

Feeling emboldened that it worked so well, I take my one finger out and slide two fingers back in. She leans into me now, so that I'm pressing even harder on her front wall, and I experiment with pulling out and pushing back in. She moans with every shallow breath she takes, and my fingers are drenched in her come, and the overwhelming urge to taste her rushes back to me. Without even thinking about it, I lean down and press my lips against her folds, running my tongue along them and savoring the unique flavor that I can't describe but know simply is the very essence of Katniss.

I bury my fingers in her even further, and press my tongue against her nub, and she cries out, "Oh, Peeta,  _yes! Oh!_ " I feel her tense up and her walls contract around my fingers—

And then I lose control of myself, falling over the edge and coming hard inside my underwear.

"Oh, gah, yes! Ye— _oh! No! Fuck!_ " I cry, my face still submerged in her nether regions, realizing what I've just done. I quickly pull my fingers out of her and leave the bed, needing to take care of my drenched shorts.

I glance back at Katniss, who has sat up in confusion but mostly looks to be in a post-orgasm fog, and she asks, "What happened?"

"I, um…" I stammer, then try to laugh it off as I grab a fresh pair of boxers from the closet and start to change, "I kind of… lost it too early. Sorry."

She sighs and runs her fingers through her hair, which has become tangled from wriggling on the bed, and she replies, "Hmm, no, don't be sorry. I think… it's nice that you enjoyed yourself that much…" She laughs, looking embarrassed and giddy all at once, and says, "Next time we'll have to focus on you." She then beckons me with her finger to come back to her, and I gladly oblige her request, jumping back into the bed and holding her close. She makes the gesture with her finger again and whispers softly to me, "I liked how you did this, with your fingers. It felt  _fantastic_."

"I'm glad," I sigh, as we get under the covers and get into a spooning position. I inhale the smell of her hair and sigh, "So what made you change your mind? You know, about… returning to practice?"

She wraps my arms tighter around her, and it takes a moment before she replies. "It was everything. I was so overwhelmed that Annie had gone missing, and that Cato had tried to come after me… And I thought if we kept getting closer, and then you were taken away from me…"

She falls silent for a while, and she shudders slightly as she exhales, and it makes me wonder if she's crying. I hug her tightly as a silent reminder that I'm not going anywhere.

She continues, "But then I saw how the Gamemakers weren't even paying any attention to me today, and something just… changed. It was like none of it mattered anymore, and I didn't care what them or anyone else thought—"

"Which is why you shot an arrow at them?" I ask, and she laughs in spite of herself and turns to face me.

"At the  _apple_  of their  _roast pig's_   _mouth_ ," she corrects me, giving me a small kiss. "But, yeah, basically. I guess I'm just starting to think like you are, that I don't want them owning me. And what better way to show it than by having the courage to be with you, in spite of the risks?"

I smile at her and remember the realization I came to today, that I don't want to let the fear of punishment rule me anymore. And I can't help but think of how Katniss has arrived at the same conclusion that I have. We've both accepted that the Gamemakers' control is only as powerful as we let it be, and that our ultimate goal of being together no matter what is the same, and so we can fight side by side for that goal.

Still, the thought of us suffering the same fate as Annie and Finnick haunts me, even if they're supposed to be rescued as well.

I press my lips softly against hers, in agreement with what she said, and remind her, "We still have to be careful though. We're not free yet."

"Oh, of course. I know that," she nods and gives me a sad smile. "But I don't want to hide as much anymore. Like, with our interviews. I think we can use them to our advantage…"

"What exactly do you have in mind?" I arch my eyebrow and ask her, and she gives me a mischievous smirk. She tells me her plan, and once again I'm in awe of this brave, selfless, clever woman.

Now, I only hope Haymitch will allow it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something that kind of could possibly maybe sort of look like Peeta's painting is here (squint your eyes, it helps): http://i295.photobucket.com/albums/mm134/ktface3/burning-bread.jpg


	13. The Coaching

Katniss unfortunately doesn't spend the night, although we do fall asleep in each other's arms for a while. It feels so right when I'm holding her close, so safe and serene, and makes me forget about all the threats that rule our waking lives: Cato, the Gamemakers, the Capitol's wrath if they were to find us the way we are right now…

She stirs at about two in the morning, and sneaks back to her bedroom after a little sleepy make out session, and with her gone, my bed feels cold and empty.

The next day is a relatively easy one: training for our interviews with Caesar Flickerman. Effie and Haymitch each take us individually, Effie coaching us on presentation, and Haymitch coaching us on content. But since there are five of us, that means three of us at any given time will have nothing to do but lounge around.

So maybe Katniss and I will be able to sneak away to the roof… or maybe to one of our bedrooms.

I did like having a bed for our practice.

After half a night of blissful sleep and half a night of restless sleep, I drag myself out of bed and go through my morning routine, picking out a comfortable outfit to wear since we won't be leaving the floor anytime today. There isn't even a party tonight, as they don't want anyone looking hung over on camera tomorrow.

I walk out of my room for breakfast and find Effie and a couple Avoxes rushing past me and into Cecilia's room. I hear Effie cry out, "Oh my goodness, what a mess! You two, clean this up immediately! Oh, dear, you certainly don't look well at all! Stay there near the commode, I'll fetch the doctor." Effie then comes back out and walks briskly back down the hall and to the elevators, tapping her foot impatiently as she waits for one.

Huh.

I venture out into the hallway and make my way to the dining room, where everyone else is seated and eating. An Avox pours a cup of hot chocolate for me and I sit for a while before I realize that no one is talking. This isn't unusual, but it's more of an eerie quiet this time. Everyone is even purposefully avoiding eye contact.

I clear my throat and ask what's probably on everyone's minds, "Is Cecilia all right?"

"We're not sure," Dynah replies, naturally, being the gossip of our group. "She came out for breakfast looking green, took one look at the eggs on her plate, and ran back toward her room. Sounds like she threw up."

"Well  _duh_ , she drank  _way_  too much la…" Cooley stops in the middle of her sentence, realizing whatever she might say next would offend Haymitch. We're all supposed to know the ill effects of alcohol overconsumption, but never acknowledge it in his presence—after all, our forced codependence is what keeps him in denial that it's a problem, and keeps him from becoming even more ornery than he already is.

"Go on," he arches an eyebrow, daring her to continue.

Cooley shakes her head and picks at her toast. "Or… maybe it was something she ate."

Haymitch scoffs and continues to shovel down a huge stack of pancakes, satisfied that she came up with another excuse.

We hear the elevator doors open and a pair of heels clicking on the stone floor, followed by heavier footsteps. Effie's voice is also clearly audible:

"I just don't know, Doctor! I have never seen someone vomit like this before, and you know what I have to put up with every year with our mentor! I  _know_  something else must be wrong…"

The door down the hall opens and shuts, and then there is silence again, and I'm glad at least  _someone_  had the courage to state the obvious about Haymitch's drinking habits… even if she probably didn't realize he could hear her. He doesn't look too phased about it though; he just sighs, shakes his head, and spikes his coffee.

Effie clearly gets a different set of rules than the rest of us do.

Breakfast is nearly finished by the time Effie and the doctor emerge from Cecilia's room. Effie thanks the doctor profusely for his diagnosis and bids him farewell, then joins us at the dining table.

She remains standing at her place to address all of us: "Haymitch, District 12 tributes, I have wonderful news! Cecilia, your fellow tribute, is with child." Effie can barely contain her excitement as she continues, "Now, I know that this is not under the best of circumstances—speaking from precedent, the Gamemakers would've liked to see this occur  _after_  pairing in the arena—but a child means another life for our glorious nation, and who can be upset at that?"

Looking around at Haymitch and the other girls, I can tell  _exactly_  who can be upset at the news: everyone at this table. Everyone including myself. The Gamemakers and the Capitol may view Cecilia's unborn child as a way to eventually successfully grow the population, but we from District 12 know better.

In District 12, a child means another mouth to feed, another body to clothe, another bed to supply. It means more resources to be taken up, and less money to go around. Even those like me, who love children and do want little ones someday, can understand the burden placed upon a family when a child comes into this world.

Haymitch grunts, "Huh. Well, since it's only a few days until we get to the arena, she can probably pass it off as her future husband's. Does she know whose it is?"

"She said either the boy from 9 or one of the boys from 10. She's not sure…" Effie sighs in response.

"Geez, what a slut," Dynah says under her breath.

"What else would you expect from a Seam girl?" Cooley whispers back, and they both share a quiet laugh until Katniss angrily gouges the table with her table knife, a warning to them that they better not talk about girls from the Seam that way, or else.

"Katniss!" Effie shrieks. "That is mahogany!"

As much as I hate to disagree with Katniss, Dynah and Cooley are right about this one. Girls from the Seam are notorious for accidentally getting pregnant before officially pairing. It's a very dishonorable thing to have happen, and so adolescents tend to look out for one another, sharing different tricks to use so that it doesn't happen until it's supposed to, when the Capitol considers us adults and allows us to officially procreate. Contraception is of course illegal, because it suppresses population growth, but there's really no other alternative for horny teenagers trying to abide by complicated rules.

Well, there  _is_  an alternative. It's what I did, which is masturbating a lot. Although now that I've actually been with Katniss in that way, and if she had reciprocated my feelings back then, I would've chosen to start being sexual  _much_  earlier, and would've just taken the proper precautions like everyone else.

Of course, the Seam kids are disadvantaged in every possible way, and so they don't have the same access to information and resources like the merchant kids do. They mainly can't afford the various blockades and herbal remedies to prevent pregnancy, and so without fail, the girls from the Seam become pregnant on a regular basis.

And then the circumstances become much more dangerous, because these pregnant girls are shunned by the district if they keep their children, and are punished by the Capitol if they are caught terminating the pregnancy. Either way, it's much harder for them to pair when the time comes.

Cecilia should feel lucky she at least made it this far without a slip up.

At least, to my knowledge.

"Well regardless, as responsible adults, she and whomever she pair bonds with should regard the child as something to be thankful for," Effie enlightens us. "Never mind who the father is, as long as it is raised healthfully and happily, and can grow into a productive member of society."

Never mind who the father is?  _Never mind who the father is?_

Of  _course_  the man Cecilia pairs with will mind who the father is! I've never heard of  _anyone_  in this circumstance not minding who the father is.

It reminds me of the most heartbreaking and infamous tale of this very situation in District 12. Jarod Haughn and Phoebe Mansfield, who pair bonded about ten years ago, became pregnant right away. Everyone was ecstatic for them, until the baby began to grow and resemble Reed Sommers, who had been Phoebe's boyfriend before Jarod. Jarod was furious with Phoebe, and ended up murdering her and the young child after years of doling out physical and emotional abuse.

He was taken by Peacekeepers and never heard from again, and the Capitol erased all official record of the family ever existing. Word is the Capitol did this so they wouldn't have to admit how flawed their system really is. And after finding out that most of the things I've heard about Singles are true, I believe this rumor even more.

 _This_  is what is so fucked up about the Capitol's system. Not only is procreation regulated, as if they're breeding us like animals, but when their exceedingly high expectations cause tragedies, they cover up the incident as if lives weren't lost. And even if the conditions aren't as fatal, like with Jarod and Phoebe, I know classmates and friends who have tension at home because of this very circumstance Cecilia finds herself in right now. Her child will likely be abused and resented if her husband turns out not to be the child's father, and the Capitol will turn a blind eye to it.

It makes me sick. I push my plate away and cover my food with my napkin, unable to even look at it.

"Now dears, let me explain how the day will work," Effie continues, effectively shutting down that topic of conversation. "You will each have 90 minutes with me and 90 with Haymitch, for a total of three hours of coaching. And since Cecilia is not feeling well, I have decided that she will work with me from 2:30pm until 4pm, and with Haymitch from 4pm to 5:30pm, so that she has a chance to recover from her morning sickness. And so…"

Effie scurries over to the banquette table lining the wall, and picks up a small glass bowl with strips of paper in it.

"This contains each of your names. Haymitch and I will each draw a name, and the tributes whose names we draw will work with us first. Then Haymitch and I will trade tributes. This means the two names left in the bowl are dismissed for the morning until lunch at noon, and the two we work with in the morning will be dismissed after lunch. Any questions?"

Like good teenagers, none of us say a word.

"Very good," Effie continues. "Now, I will be working with..." She dips her manicured fingers into the glass bowl and pulls out a slip of paper. "Peeta," she reads, glancing at me. She gives a curt nod and states, "Very well. Haymitch?"

Haymitch reaches into the bowl and gets a slip. He reads it and tries poorly to hide a grimace, then looks up at Katniss and says, "Well sweetheart, you're with me."

Katniss sighs, resigning to her fate.

"Excellent!" Effie cheers. "Dynah, Cooley, you are dismissed until lunch at noon. Peeta, you come with me."

I try not to audibly gulp.

I haven't found myself alone with Effie until now, and frankly, she scares me. If it's not her fussy demeanor that's annoying me, it's the sickening fact that she champions for all of the Capitol's principles. I don't know how I'm going to survive an hour and a half of her coaching me.

"Peeta, come dear!" she calls to me as she walks off toward my room. I exchange a glance with Katniss, who is looking equally uneasy as she gets up from the table to follow Haymitch to his quarters. I let out a soft sigh, thinking at least I get to get it done and over with.

I join Effie in my room, and she directs me to sit on my bed. She pulls up a desk chair next to me and flips through her notes.

"Peeta, Peeta... ah, yes! Here you are! Now, the DNA results showed you would match the best with Cashmere, Mags, and Katniss. And the skills test put you at an eight, which is in a fine range. Let's see... we have Cashmere again—she sounds like a winner! We have Clove, Lyme, oh! Mags again as well! Two excellent candidates, and both are Careers! And then the scores drop considerably, hmm... Bonnie earned a seven, and I believe you showed up as one of her best matches for the DNA results. And Rue earned a seven as well. My goodness, so many fine choices for a lovely boy like yourself!"

I'm really only half-listening, because this review of my choices is purely to humor her. I'll just put her at ease by telling her that the girl I want to pursue is definitely on her list, and then we'll hopefully move on.

"And so," Effie deduces, "in your interview you will appear interested in either Cashmere or Mags, with Bonnie as a possible alternate. The Capitol citizens will appreciate your ambition in desiring a Career, and they will support choices that are so well-matched in skills and DNA." Effie sighs and tells me, "Well, that was easy! What a relief that you gave me something to work with. Now, we must work on your appeal to both of these girls specifically—"

"Hold on," I interrupt.

This is  _not_  how this was supposed to go.

"You just tell me who I'm supposed to be interested in? We—we only talked about half the girls on that list!"

"Peeta,  _dear_ , we discussed the best possible candidates for you considering your DNA matches and skills score," Effie reminds me through clenched, forced-smiling teeth.

I stammer, trying to think of how to get her to reconsider her approach without giving away too much. "But I, uh… I—"

Oh, to hell with it.

"I want to be with one of the other girls on that list!"

Effie arches an eyebrow and gives me a menacing smirk. "Oh, you do? Well, whoever could that be?" She snickers to herself, and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach. "Could it be, perhaps, a girl from your own district? There's only one on this list…"

Yeah, she knows.

"Don't think I haven't been keen to the looks you give each other at mealtimes, or how I always find you talking with her at the parties every night. But that, my dear, is extremely disrespectful, and I won't even consider it an option."

I can't believe this! None of this is really up to me at all, is it? It was all decided by a skills test and a DNA match—

Wait!

"But she and I were a match!" I argue. "We were both in the top three matches for each other!"

"That is irrelevant," Effie dismisses me. "Those DNA tests are purely scientific, and do not take into account what would be best for you on a personable level."

"That—that's bullshit," I tell her as I stand up, ready to storm out of the room. "It's more like what would be best for the Capitol!"

"Yes, that is  _exactly_  what I mean!" she shouts back at me, getting out of her chair and trying to tower over me. She pushes me back onto the bed and reprimands me, her finger waving, "Peeta, you are by all accounts a failure in your district. All of you are. You weren't able to pair bond in time, and what the Capitol  _should_  do with people like you is execute you, because you do not help to grow our population in any way. But no, instead we bring you all the way here, to the lap of luxury. We give you all the food and drink you want, put you on television and make you an instant star, and present you in beautiful costumes to the country. And with our guidance, we give you a second chance at finding everlasting love. Now, think of the nerve you would have to have if you were to get into that arena and pair bond with the same girl you could have paired with  _before_  the Reaping! We Capitol citizens would wonder why we even bothered to provide all of this for someone  _so_  ungrateful."

I sit there in stunned silence, not knowing what I could possibly say in response. I know I want to tell her that I think the whole fucking system is flawed, and that we should all choose who we want to be with freely, but arguing with her is  _so_  pointless…

She unfortunately mistakes my silence for surrender.

"Good, I see I've made myself clear. Now, you have two choices of whom to appeal to: Cashmere or Mags," she instructs me as she sits back down in her chair. "They are your best choices and the ones the Capitol will respond to the most. And since they are both Career Tributes, I suggest you play up your brute strength. You must think of your toughness in your every action. Now, get up and let's practice…"

We practice walking, talking, shaking hands, and every other mannerism that may convey physical power to an audience for the rest of the session. I feel trapped in that room, being held against my will, and being forced to parade around like a puppet on strings. And just when I  _really_  start to hate myself, Effie tells me my behavior is  _just perfect_ for the cameras tomorrow.

If we all have to live like this, the Capitol may as well make us kill each other in the arena for their entertainment instead.

Eventually,  _thankfully_ , my 90 minutes are up. Effie brings me to Haymitch's door to swap tributes, and Katniss answers. She looks exhausted, and judging by her reaction to me, I'm willing to bet I look just as exhausted.

"Come on in, kid," Haymitch calls as Katniss is dragged away by Effie.

Well, at least he's not calling me 'fag' anymore.

I enter his quarters and take a seat in the desk chair, exhaling loudly, and Haymitch chuckles at me.

"Effie can be a handful, can't she?" he asks, pulling up another chair. "How bad was it?"

I shake my head, still in disbelief, "She said we should all be executed for not contributing to the growth of our nation. And she said I was ungrateful because I want to pair with someone from my own district."

"Peet, you can't let her get to you. She's been fed this bullshit Capitol rhetoric all her life, and doesn't realize how badly we suffer in the districts. But it's good that you're angry about it, because it'll help the rebellion even more…" He pauses for a moment, and then says, "Katniss told me about your plan for tomorrow."

I scoff, "That plan was all her, don't let her fool you. I may be the key player in it, but it's her brainchild."

"Well, I think it's a brilliant idea," Haymitch remarks. "It'll really get everyone's attention, especially in the districts. The rebellion is going to gain a lot of supporters from it."

"I was just thinking how we might get some sponsors out of it," I chuckle to myself.

"Well, you'll get that too, I imagine," Haymitch replies, nodding his head. "It's a winning play all around. You won't even have to remember all that crap Effie fed you for the last hour and a half."

I laugh at this, grateful to find my hope renewed. Haymitch and I talk about exactly what I'll say in the interview, and what kinds of questions Caesar is bound to ask that will lead me in to setting Katniss' plan in motion, and by the end of our time, I feel ready.

But there's still one thing I'm wondering about. Something crucial.

"Haymitch," I ask cautiously, "when are we planning on escaping?"

He sighs and shrugs his shoulders, "Probably not soon enough, but our spy seems to think we'll make a bigger impact if we let you go into the arena."

"What!" I yelp, and then remember to keep my voice down. "Into the arena? But—but anything could happen in there!"

Like Cato and Cashmere getting to us before we can get to each other…

"Look, kid, I don't call the shots," Haymitch explains. "And I know there are… risks to going into that arena, but we'll be with you every step of the way making sure you're all right, so don't worry too much about it."

I nod, trying to understand, but I know I won't be able to get rid of my anxiety.


	14. The Deed

Lunch is quiet, like usual, but everyone is especially nice to Cecilia, who has finally recovered from her morning sickness. Even Dynah and Cooley show a little sympathy, although I'm sure all they're thinking about is how glad they are to not be pregnant. Katniss looks more worn out than she was earlier, and I can only imagine Effie gave her hell too.

At least we'll have the afternoon to ourselves.

Dynah and Cooley are promptly whisked away as soon as lunch is over, thanks to Effie's obsessive need to keep on schedule. And most likely ruminating on her own dilemma, Cecilia leaves the table without a second thought.

Which again leaves Katniss and I alone, unsupervised.

I would've thought being alone together would be prohibited now, especially now that I know Effie knows. But maybe it just slipped her mind; she does have a lot to keep track of…

Not that I'm going to call her out on her oversight any time soon.

I glance up at Katniss and find her picking at the food on her plate, still recovering from this morning's training. I smile tenderly at her, and she senses my gaze on her and looks up at me.

"Hi," she says, her cheeks blushing slightly.

She is so beautiful.

I reply softly, "Hi."

"What do you want to do this afternoon?"

This sounds like a trick question. The answer in my head is clearly 'more practice,  _now_ ,' but it's been such a stressful day already, I think it would be weird if we tried to jump right in to that.

"What if we just spend the afternoon on the roof? You know, just talking and unwinding…"

Katniss nods her head. "I'd like that."

"All right."

We gather some blankets, take them up to the roof, and spread them out in the garden. It feels so nice to be outside in the daylight, I've almost forgotten the feeling of the sun on my skin. We lie in the sunshine for quite a while, soaking up the rays and enjoying the tinkling of the garden wind chimes. And the breeze, which is manageable today, provides just the right amount of chill so we don't overheat.

I glance over at Katniss, and she looks so serene, with her eyes closed and face relaxed. She's even smiling a little.

I manage to… 'watch' isn't the right word—it's too creepy—I manage to  _observe_  her for quite a while before she feels my gaze on her.

"Can I help you with something?" she smirks, turning to her side to peer back at me.

I smile. "No, I just like looking at you."

"Stalker," she laughs in response.

"Pretty much," I tease back.

A beat passes as we gaze at each other. I feel lost in all the pigments of her gray eyes, like I could stare at them forever and still wouldn't able to realize their full magnificence.

"Peeta," she asks hesitantly, "what more do you know about the rebellion?"

I consider what I know, and what Haymitch had warned me, and tell her, "We're going to be rescued from the arena. And then we're going… somewhere. And then we'll get to be together, and all our friends will be there too." I lean in and kiss her on the cheek, and I can feel the heat from her blush underneath my lips.

"What about our families?" she asks as I pull away.

"I… I don't know."

"I told Haymitch I wanted our families rescued as well," Katniss says as she scoots toward me and rests her head on my chest. "If it's possible."

I wrap an arm around her to pull her closer, and tell her, "I'm sure it's possible. After all, it's your brilliant idea that will help the rebellion the most. Haymitch will owe you."

"I don't know if Haymitch thought it was so brilliant," she laughs humorlessly. "He grilled me on every angle of the plan, like he thought I overlooked something."

"Don't worry, you didn't," I reassure her, nuzzling her closer.

She smells  _so_  good.

"And he definitely said it was brilliant to me," I continue. "I'm sure he was just trying to make sure it was foolproof before he gave us the go-ahead."

"You're probably right." Katniss sighs and tilts her head to give me a light kiss on the lips. "Let's forget about Haymitch for a while."

I smile at her and we lean in for another kiss. Things start out soft and gentle, but it isn't long until the passion builds and our kisses turn into something more frantic. I begin to feel like I can't be close enough to her, and so I pull her on top of me, and I let out a low groan as she presses against my erection.

I feel her lips turn up into a smile against my skin, and then she presses into me again.

_Ugh!_

What a fucking  _tease!_

My hand moves to her breasts, and this time it's her turn to moan as I manipulate her hard nipples through her shirt, and her hips are moving against me in a rhythm so tantalizing, it makes me want to rip off all her clothes and take her right here.

"Peeta," she pants heavily, burying her face in my neck and grinding herself against me, "I can't stand it… I—I  _want_  you…"

Apparently she's thinking the same thing.

I pull back to look into her eyes, making sure I understand what exactly she means.

"You—you want… all of—of  _everything_?"

She nods, looking desperate for relief. "I'm ready," she whispers. "I trust you. I  _need_  you. I—"

I cut her off by crashing my lips into hers, and then we sit up in order to remove our clothes. Katniss grabs one of the extra blankets and wraps it around us, so we can be naked while still completely covered. One by one, pieces of clothing are shed until we're both undressed, and rather unsure of how to keep going.

After a slight hesitation, Katniss wraps the blanket tighter around us, inevitably bringing us closer together, and I let out a small gasp as I brush up against the heat of her sex. I gaze into her eyes, and find her regarding me with determination and desire, and it makes me think of how far we've come in such a short amount of time. How a week ago, she barely knew I existed, and now we're about to be as intimate as people can be with each other.

It overwhelms me, and all I can think to do with this upsurge of emotion is bring her flush against me and devour her with kisses in an attempt to actually fuse us together—

Oh shit, wait!

"Wait," I pant, pulling away from her.

I can see the fear and frustration in her eyes as she asks me, "What?"

"We don't—we need, I uh… I don't want you to end up like Cecilia."

"Oh," she replies, realization crossing her face. She shakes her head and tells me, "Don't—don't worry about it."

She tries to start kissing me again, but I stop her. "What do you mean, don't worry about it?"

She sighs and looks away from me embarrassedly for a moment, and then explains, "I um… haven't had a menses in over a year. My mother thinks it's due to stress, or malnutrition, or something about my lifestyle that caused it. The doctor here examined me, and she didn't say anything about it, but I don't know if that's good or bad."

I nod my head, suddenly remembering I never did hear the results of my sperm count. I'm sure it's information they only felt needed to go to the Gamemakers.

"But no menses means no chance of pregnancy, so…" She blushes and leans her head on my chest.

"Can… can you ever have children?"

She shrugs and looks back at me, "I don't know. I mean, it's not like I've  _never_  had a menses, and if there was something seriously wrong, I'm pretty sure I would've been back to that doctor by now. I bet the Capitol would want their tributes in good working order…"

"Well… good," I reply, processing everything she's just divulged to me. "I mean, I want to have children, especially, um, with you. But not anytime soon. I've seen what my brothers have had to go through, and I don't feel like I could handle having kids right now."

"That's the thing though," Katniss admits, "I don't know if I  _ever_  want children. At least, not if they have to grow up to end up in the Games like us."

I kiss her softly, reassuringly, and remind her, "Well, then it's a good thing we'll be free from all this soon."

She smiles at me and begins to attack me with kisses, and we find it pretty easy to get our passion back. If anything, I feel like I desire her even more, now that I understand what we're doing isn't for the Capitol's benefit, but instead is all for our own enjoyment.

I lay her back onto the blanket, and take one last look at her before proceeding. She nods and gives me a small smile in consent, and so I take myself in my hand to guide toward her entrance. She helps lead me to the dip in between her folds, which are hot and wet with arousal, and I slowly push my way into her, scrutinizing her for any signs of discomfort. There are fortunately few—she only squirms a little as I fill her, but once I've gone all the way in, she stills, and we simply just… look at each other for a while, first in surprise, and then in excitement.

The only thought my brain can fully process is how complete I feel, and how I want this feeling, this connection to the woman I'm in love with, to last forever.

Katniss smiles and pulls me lower so we are fully pressing against one another, and we share a few delicate, sweet kisses. Then, I get the urge to start moving. I begin slowly and shallowly, and I can hear her breath hitch as I push back in, followed by a soft whimper, and it encourages me to pick up my speed. I try to get a rhythm going, and find that she's already set a good pace with each buck of her hips into me. And when I finally match her, she throws her head back and gives a rather loud moan.

"Ugh, Peeta! Oh— _ssshit! Yesss!_ "

I'm going to have to build a tolerance to those moans, because combined with the sensation of thrusting into her and surrounding myself with her; it's enough to almost bring me the edge. But at least I know she's enjoying herself. I place a trail of sloppy kisses along her neck and shoulder, sucking on her skin in order to leave those little "love bites" that people always brag about after they've made a visit to the slagheap. I want her to have a couple, and I want to be able to look at them and know that I made them.

It'll be good evidence that this wasn't all just some fantastic, elaborate dream.

It does feel dreamlike—I seem to have no conscious thought, only sensations of what's going on around me. Like fingers running through my hair. Or legs wrapping around me so I can plunge deeper. Or a tongue circling the rim of my ear. Or hard nipples brushing up against one another.

And then I feel her walls contracting around me, and Katniss' whole body tenses, and I know I can't hold back any longer. I grab her and hold onto her tightly as I spill my load into her, and quickly realize that every time I twitch with release, her walls contract around me in response.

It thrills me to know that we're feeding each other's pleasure.

We lay there for a little while, blissfully kissing and caressing each other, and being rather gentle about it considering how we were acting only a few moments ago. I can feel myself going limp, and so I tell her, "I have to, uh…" I start to pull out of her and she quickly understands, and untangles her legs so I can extricate myself.

"That was  _so_  ama—" Katniss starts to say, then gets a funny look on her face. "What the—" she stammers and takes a frantic look around us, reaching for one of the extra blankets.

"What is it?" I ask as I slip my boxers back on.

"Uh," she laughs, embarrassed. "It's nothing. Just kind of… messy, down there."

"Really?" I ask incredulously. I know things are messy normally, but I thought if I came inside her then it would stay there. Guess that's not exactly how it works. "Gah, I'm—I'm sorry," I say sheepishly.

"Really, it's okay," she replies with a smirk.

She cleans herself up with an extra blanket, discards it, and puts her underwear back on, then beckons to me to lay with her. I position myself behind her and we spoon each other with my face buried in her hair. I can see a couple of my love bites on her shoulder, and I place a few soft kisses on them.

This is, by far, my favorite place to be.

We lay there for a while, and I listen to the sound of her breathing as I feel her chest rise and fall. Then she breaks the silence with a soft gasp, and reminds me, "Oh, shit. Peeta, I forgot. I wanted to, um… focus on you. Like you did for me last night."

She turns toward me and puts her hands on me, and I shudder at the touch, feeling oversensitive after already being brought to orgasm. I take her hands in mine and push them away, telling her, "Oh, uh, I… appreciate that. A  _lot_. But you know, I don't think I can do anything again for a while. I gotta have some time to… recover."

"Really?" she asks in the same disbelieving tone I used only minutes ago. "How long does it take to… recover?"

I shrug in response. "A few hours, at least."

"That sucks," she laughs. "I'm ready for more after a minute or two."

"You are?"

"Well, yeah. And I know it's not just something I can do for myself either. Madge said she sometimes could go two or three times before Brock had his."

This is obviously something my brothers neglected to tell me during my sexual education.

And why do I all of a sudden feel the need to outdo Brock and Madge?

I scoff, "Well now that I know that, I'll make sure you have at least that many from now on." I pepper her face and neck with kisses, and she squeals in response.

"That tickles!" she cries and laughs at the same time.

"I know, and you're so adorable when you're being tickled," I try to reason with her.

"Have you forgotten how I could paralyze you with a swift kick to the balls?"

I stop and tell her, smirking, "Totally worth it," before attacking her face and neck again. She giggles and squirms but doesn't try to go too far, and we soon both end up laughing in each other's arms.

"Ahem," a gruff voice clears his throat behind us, and I freeze with fear. I slowly lift my head and find Haymitch standing near the entrance to the garden with his arms folded and an eyebrow arched.

As soon as I see him, I duck back down and find Katniss' eyes as wide as saucers.

"Is it…?"

"Yeah." I nod, and she quickly pulls the blankets up to her neck.

"Well don't be too embarrassed," Haymitch jeers. "All of Panem will have a front row seat for this show in a few days."

His words make my stomach sink. I've known all along that we'd be having sex in the arena—it's the only real inevitable part of the Games—but I guess I never realized what it meant because I hadn't experienced sex before. And now that I have—

Oh wow, I've experienced sex. That's a crazy thought.

Anyway, now that I have, I don't want such an intimate moment to be broadcast to the entire country. It makes me livid that we have to go through all of this for their entertainment, and that the Capitol has so much control over our lives.

I take my anger out on Haymitch. "Don't you have somewhere else to be?" I ask, my tone hostile.

He laughs in response, "Probably. But I wanted to come find you because I thought up a little… addition to your interview strategy for tomorrow."

I glance at Katniss, who looks skeptical, but shrugs and rolls her eyes.

"Okay, what is it?" I inquire.

Haymitch takes a seat on a little bench nearby and explains his idea, and how it will win the sympathies of everyone in the districts. Katniss and I sit up and listen intently, the blankets still wrapped around us, and try to think through how we can possibly pull it off.

"We really need to focus on uniting the districts," he reasons, "It's the only way the rebellion will survive. And I think this addition will hit home for everyone."

"But… no one has ever done something like that," Katniss argues. "It's probably forbidden to even mention. I'll be you that Effie—"

"Hey, I don't care about Effie," Haymitch interrupts. "I'm telling you that this is going to work  _because_  it's so unprecedented and such a taboo thing to talk about. It's going to make people want to rebel."

As I ponder his idea, I can't help but think of how something that started out as a way for Katniss and me to manipulate the Games and get some sponsors has turned into being the spokespeople for the rebellion. It feels like I'm a piece in an entirely new set of Games now. Although, I suppose I'd much rather be a piece for the rebellion than the Capitol; I know the rebellion at least fighting for the things I believe in.

"Who's going to do it?" I ask hesitantly.

He points at me and answers, "I think it should be you, kid. I think you have the charm to pull it off. No offense, sweetheart."

Katniss huffs at his comment, but then asks, "If we do this, will you rescue our families?"

Haymitch rubs his face in frustration, and finally begrudgingly says, "We'll try. No promises, but we'll try."

"Try hard," Katniss warns him.

"All right, all right, we will. But first I gotta get back to coaching," he says, standing up and starting to walk toward the door. "You know, I wouldn't be up here for too much longer if I were you. Who knows what kind of stunt Effie would try to pull if she found you two like that."

After he leaves, Katniss flops back onto the blankets. "Ugh, I hate these Games!" she shouts, knowing there's nothing taping us up here and she's free to say what she wants.

I lie back beside her and kiss her cheek, soothing her, "It'll be all right. You were at least able to bargain from of it."

"I guess," she sighs. "But his addition to our plan sounds so dangerous. There's a reason no one has ever done anything like that before, even though I'm sure there have been times when someone could've done it."

I nod my head in agreement. "It's a big risk. But for our freedom, I think it will be worth it."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," she concedes, reaching for her clothes. "Come on, we'd better get packed up."

"Okay."

We get dressed and gather the blankets, sharing one last tender kiss before heading back downstairs. Once we're back on our floor, we part ways, knowing that it's better to be found alone rather than together when Effie calls us for dinner. I sit in my room and draw with some stationary and a pen from my desk—most of them turn out to be images of Katniss sunbathing or smiling at me or sitting naked wrapped up in blankets.

I cannot stop thinking about how we  _finally_  had sex. It was better than anything I've ever fantasized about—pleasuring myself with my own hand doesn't even compare to the feeling of her hot, wet walls contracting around me. And then add on top of that the feeling of her body pressed against mine, and the smell of her, and the taste…

I wonder if we'll get to do it again before the Games begin.

I know the Gamemakers are going to make it hell for us in the arena, especially if we pull off the stunt that we're planning for our interviews tomorrow, but if it means that I get to be that intimate with her for the rest of my life, then I am certainly willing to risk my life for it.

My mind drifts then to our future, in some undisclosed location, as part of a war effort for the rebels. That will be dangerous for us as well, and may even be deadly, but even if it is, I won't regret fighting to change this system. Hopefully, if we do end up having children, they will get to live in a world where they can choose who they want to pair with, and not be a part of this sick system where we are bred like animals.

Once I'm finished drawing, I hide the sketches under my mattress.

The rest of the night passes uneventfully. Dinner is the same awkward, quiet mealtime that I've grown accustomed to over the past few days, and it makes me thankful that I'll only have a few more left to sit through.

Effie then makes us sit and watch Caesar Flickerman's interview with Seneca Crane about this year's Games and what they mean to him:

"I think it's our tradition. It comes out of a particularly painful part of our history, but it's been the way we've been able to heal. At first it was a reminder of the rebellion, it was a price the districts had to pay. But I think it has grown from that, I think it's uh… something that knits us all together."

The audience gives him enthusiastic applause and he explains how invested viewers get in the tributes' emotions—the rage of two tributes fighting over the same mate, the torment of being left alone in the arena at the end of the Games, and of course, the ecstasy of seeing two tributes joining together and "cementing their pair bond."

Caesar chuckles deviously at that part, as does the audience. Perverts.

Caesar then asks Seneca what he thinks about this year's "crop of recruits," and what he thinks the audience can expect from us in the arena after watching us interact for the past week:

"I think this is a very interesting mix. Whenever you have high skills scores from tributes in the outlying districts, that's something you uh… you can't ignore."

Meaning Katniss, and probably Thresh too, are highly coveted, even by Careers.

"And to have a tribute with a zero is certainly disappointing," he continues, "especially one from a usually promising district. But I see this as one of the main functions of the Games, to determine who is worthy to pass on their genetic material, so that our wonderful nation can have only the best kinds of people."

The crowd gives a raucous applause, and I shudder in fear.

Yes, now I know I  _have_  to go through with Katniss' plan tomorrow. If for nothing else, then to show everyone that we will not be pieces in their Games.


	15. The Interviews

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because I'm kinda tired with updating this at such a slow pace when it's up in its entirety everywhere else (and I'm ready to move on to different stuff), I'm posting the rest of the chapters all at once!! Woo!!!

I wake up bright and early on my own. I feel so alert, as if my body can sense how important the coming days will be, how they will set the trajectory for the rest of my life.

Today I will defy the Capitol in my interview with Caesar Flickerman, and tomorrow I will have to face all kinds of obstacles in the arena in order to pair bond with Katniss. The consequences of not getting to her in time—rape, mutilation, execution—keep me on my guard. At the same time, I know that Haymitch and the other rebels are planning our rescue, giving me hope that my time in the arena will be short lived.

Still the best laid plans of mice and men often go awry…

I don't bother to shower, knowing my prep team will want to do that for me; instead I put on my robe and go out to the dining room for breakfast. I'm the only one there, so I eat quietly as I ponder all the different things Caesar could say that would lead me into our plan.

It's the first meal I've eaten by myself in days, and this peaceful silence feels better than the silences that usually accompany mealtimes.

Just as I'm finishing up, Effie sashays into the room. "Good morning, dear!" she sings. "Are you ready for another big, big, big day? I see you're through eating. I will inform your prep team so they can come and start working on you."

She pats me on the head as she glides by, on her way to the rest of the girls' rooms.

I sigh and shuffle back to my room in order to await my prep team. I think about quickly jerking off, if for no other reason than to release some of the tension in my body, but I realize that with my luck, my prep team will probably walk in on me. So instead I decide to try out the zoom feature on the windows to people-watch.

Everyone seems to be getting ready for various viewing parties, or at beauty salons prepping themselves to be part of the audience for today's taping. There are several citizens in a large, outdoor plaza chatting and staring up at a board. The angle isn't quite right to get a good look at the whole board, but I can see enough to know what it is.

It's all of us, the tributes, arranged in a table, with the odds of pairing with one another written in each square. I can see my name, picture, vitals, like height and weight, and my skills score near the bottom left corner. And as I go across the row, I can see numbers like 74:1, 46:1, 82:1…

Those must be my odds of pairing with the Careers, no doubt being first on the list.

I'm not able to see the rest of the board, and I'm not exactly curious to see any more of it. Although I do wish I could see the odds they have of Katniss and me pairing up. I'm sure the odds will change after today.

I sure hope they are in my favor.

There's a knock at my door and my prep team immediately enters, not waiting for any response to the knock.

I knew they would've caught me jerking off.

"Peeta, we are so excited for you!"

"The suit Cinna and Portia made for you is going to look  _amazing_  with your features!"

"Let's get you showered and see what maintenance needs to be done!"

I stand there like a dress-up doll as they strip me of my pajamas and push me into the shower, where they scrub me down from head to toe. I try to ignore what they're doing to me for the most part, only moving of my own accord if they give me an explicit instruction on how and where to move. I instead try to think again about my interview strategy, and how best to win the support of the districts, as well as a few sponsors.

My prep only takes three hours today, mostly because they didn't have to wax a lot of my body hair again, thankfully. They dress me in the suit Portia and Cinna made—black with red flame accents—and ooh and ahh over their handiwork. Portia herself even makes an appearance, performing a final check and taking care of any minor details. She smooths my hair a little, picks a thread off the arm of my suit, re-polishes my shoes, and then backs up and takes me all in.

"You're going to wow them tonight," she reassures me, "just like you did at the opening ceremonies. Just be your charming self, and what you worked out with Haymitch will fall right into place."

She winks at me then, and the thought crosses my mind that maybe she's one of the Capitol rebels. But then again, her choice of words could have just been a coincidence.

Still…

She escorts me to the elevators and takes me down to the basement, where we walk down a corridor I haven't ventured into before. We enter a backstage area where everyone is bustling about, putting the finishing touches on their tributes and going over final interview instructions. Everyone looks glamorous and colorful, clearly in an attempt to stand out, and I can see the district escorts making them practice their smiles and waves to the audience.

Portia and I join the rest of the District 12 team: Effie, who looks so proud she's about to cry, Haymitch, who looks nervous and is compulsively taking swigs from his flask, Cinna, who scrutinizes my look and then gives a nod to Portia, and of course, the girls. They are each dressed in the colors of flames—red on Katniss, orange on Cecilia, yellow on Cooley, and blue on Dynah—and each dress has threads of the other three colors weaved through it for accent. The dresses themselves have a fiery look to them, with fabric sweeping across their bodies and a hint of sheen when the dresses catch in the light.

I notice that red jewels have disguised my love bites on Katniss' shoulders.

I watch her try not to fidget with her dress, and I get the urge to sweep her up in my arms and give her encouraging words and kisses, but I know I can't with Effie watching our every move.

"Now, dears, just remember how you were coached yesterday and you will do wonderfully," Effie reminds us. "I am so excited for you all! This will certainly be a day you will remember for the rest of your lives!"

Isn't that the truth.

She blows kisses to all of us as our team departs to take their seats in the audience, and then Capitol attendants move in and line us up in order. All of us will be taking the stage, sitting in a giant arc, and Caesar will call us down to the interview seat on the lower stage one by one.

District 12 is, of course, last, and since we are again going in alphabetical order, I will be the second to last tribute to be interviewed.

I hope Dynah won't be too mad at me for stealing the show right before her turn.

Thresh hesitantly waves to me from where he stands several tributes in front of me, and I smile and wave back at him. Just because he isn't part of the rebellion doesn't mean he isn't still my friend. He smiles back, thankful I acknowledged him, and points to Clove, looking bored in a peach-colored dress all the way at the front. He then clutches his heart, swooning dramatically, and almost bumps into Rue in his exaggerated collapse.

Yep, still hung up on Clove. Definitely not part of the rebellion.

I then hear several gasps and turn to see Annie, in a shimmering aquamarine dress, being escorted by Peacekeepers up to the front of the line. She doesn't look fearful or in pain, and is actually struggling to keep from laughing, and her walk is a little unsteady as well—

That's when it hits me. They've drugged her in order to get her to perform for her interview.

Katniss and I exchange a short glance, and her expression is so concerned and yet so helpless. I know she knows nothing can be done for Annie right now, but I can tell just how badly she wants to help her. I try to smile at her, but I'm sure it falls flat; I feel just as helpless as she probably does. The attendants call our attention to the front, and we walk single file onto the stage as the anthem of Panem plays for our entrance. I try to remember to take deep breaths, not wanting to pass out on stage, and I'm thankful when I get to sit down in my seat.

I take a look around the audience and find the stylists front and center, I'm sure so that the cameras can pan to them as the audience reacts to their designs. Over to the right is a balcony where all the Gamemakers are sitting, and camera crews line the other balconies. Caesar Flickerman, with his powder blue hair, eyelids, and lips, is on a stage below us, standing in front of two chairs and warming the crowd up with a few jokes.

I've been watching Caesar do these interviews all my life, and I am always so impressed by how professional he is. He knows just how to play up a tribute's strengths, even when everyone else thinks the tribute is a lost cause, and is never negative toward a tribute. I know that because of this, he'll react perfectly to me.

Each interview lasts three minutes, and at the end of the interviews, a buzzer goes off and the next tribute is up. I sit and watch as the Careers all take their turns, attempting to look as provocative as possible with their seductive smiles and their walks full of swagger.

With each tribute, the wall behind Caesar lights up and the faces of the tributes most well suited for him or her show up on a screen. Caesar asks each of them if the tribute they desire most is pictured, and almost everyone says yes. Some even mention the tribute by name, and then the cameras pan to the tribute mentioned, usually looking shocked or flattered.

Clove, as well as Beetee and Wiress, are vaguer about whom they desire, but Cato is not.

"I've been after the, uh, one from 12," he says, pointing to Katniss' photo.

He doesn't even know her fucking name!

"She's been playing hard to get with me, but I plan to make her come around."

I notice the cameras focusing in on Katniss, who remains stone-faced.

Soon enough Annie is up, and Caesar makes her look more like a ditz instead of high. He asks her about her skills score of zero and she says something like "Well, you know… What was the question?"

Caesar laughs and pats her knee, whispering to the audience, "They should've scored her on her looks alone!"

The audience gets a kick out of that one.

Thankfully I'm not mentioned by name, although both Cashmere and Bonnie say that the tribute they desire is pictured. I'm sure my odds to pair with them are getting better on that board as they speak.

Thresh, surprisingly, plays it very cool and aloof for his interview, only saying yes or no to most of Caesar's questions. When asked about his display at the opening ceremonies, he shrugs nonchalantly and says he was 'mostly just having fun.'

I wonder what his strategy is…

And the Caesar comes to District 12, and Katniss, as always, is first. She looks extremely nervous, needing to clutch the railing as she walks down the steps to get to Caesar, and ever the professional, he takes her hand both as a firm support and as a friendly gesture, and leads her to her seat.

"So, Katniss, the Capitol must be quite a change from District 12. What's impressed you most since you arrived here?" he asks, and she looks at him like he's just spoken gibberish.

"What?" she stutters. Caesar laughs and asks the question again, and after a moment of thought, Katniss deadpans: "The lamb stew."

"The one with the dried plums?" he asks, and she nods in response. "Oh, I eat it by the bucketful! It doesn't show, does it?" The audience applauds him and I see him give a reassuring smile to her. "Now, Katniss," he continues, "When you came out in the opening ceremonies, my heart actually stopped. What did you think of that costume?"

She glances toward Cinna and stammers, "You mean, after I got over my fear of being burned alive?"

The audience dissolves into hysterics over that one, without Caesar even needing to show them how they should react.

"Yes, start then," Caesar encourages, and Katniss starts to smile.

"I thought Cinna was brilliant and I couldn't believe I was wearing it. I can't believe I'm wearing this either." She stands and exclaims, "I mean, look at it!"

She twirls around once, and the ruffles at the bottom of her skirt fan out and catch fire, and the audience gasps in surprise.

"Oh, do that again!" Caesar says, and Katniss proceeds to twirl around and around until her whole dress is engulfed in flames. The audience cheers her on, and when she almost loses her balance, she clutches Caesar's arm. "Don't stop!" he pleads to her.

"I have to, I'm dizzy!" she giggles.

Caesar helps her sit back down and comments, "Don't worry, I've got you. Can't have you following in your mentor's footsteps." A camera pans to Haymitch, who is now infamous for his fall off the stage at the Reaping, and he is luckily a good sport about it and gives a friendly wave. "It's all right, she's safe with me," Caesar assures the crowd, and then continues. "So, how about that training score? Eleven. Give us a hint what happened in there."

Katniss looks up to the balcony where the Gamemakers sit and bites her lip nervously. "Um… all I can say, is I think it was a first," she answers vaguely.

"You're killing us!" Caesar tells her melodramatically. "Details, details!"

Still looking at the balcony, Katniss asks, "I'm not supposed to talk about it, right?"

"She's not!" one yells down to them.

"Thank you." Katniss turns back to Caesar and shrugs, "Sorry. My lips are sealed."

"Then let's cut to the chase," he says, steering the conversation back to the topic he's discussed with every tribute. The photos of all the tributes well suited for Katniss, including myself, appear on the screen behind them, and he asks her, "The question on everyone's mind is, have you gotten to know any of the lucky boys pictured here?"

Katniss studies the photos of the tributes and then blushes slightly as she answers, "Yes, I have."

"Anyone in particular?" Caesar asks, a mischievous look on his face.

Katniss' blush turns redder. "Yes, but I won't say who, if that's what you want."

"Well darn, you've figured me out," he says, snapping his fingers. "Well then, if you won't give us specifics, then at least tell us, what are you searching for in an ideal mate?"

Glancing back again at the screen behind her, Katniss considers her response. "Someone… someone who will let me be me," she replies decisively.

"How refreshing!" Caesar praises her. "But what does that mean  _exactly_?"

The audience is on the edge of their seats, waiting for her answer.

"Well…" Katniss struggles, and then says hesitantly, "I've been told that I am like a mockingjay. I mean, they managed to survive under unlikely circumstances, and that's how I feel about what's happened in my life… And, you can't tame a mockingjay either… they're free to fly."

Caesar nods his head empathically. "And so, you don't want your future husband to try to tame you or to change who you are."

"Exactly."

The buzzer sounds, and Caesar shakes Katniss' hand. "Sorry, we're out of time," he tells her. "Best of luck, Katniss Everdeen, tribute from District 12."

She gets a roaring applause as she returns to her seat, but looks to be a little dazed, as if she had blacked out during the entire interview. Her nerves must have gotten to her more than it seemed; the audience  _loved_  her.

Cecilia and Cooley each try to copy Katniss' fiery twirl, but it doesn't have the same effect as it had the first time. Cinna and Portia cut the dresses differently so that the fire shoots out of different places, at least trying to be a little different, but Katniss clearly wore the flames best.

And before I know it, Caesar is calling my name to come for my interview. I make my way down the stairs and give Caesar's hand a friendly shake, trying to just 'be my charming self' like Portia instructed.

"So, Peeta," Caesar begins, and I settle in to my seat. "What is the biggest difference you've found between the Capitol and District 12?"

"That would have to be the showers," I smirk and reply as I remember pressing the wrong button and being splattered with soap. "Tell me, Caesar, do I smell like roses?"

The audience begins to chuckle as I lean over to him, and he takes a whiff. "You know, you do smell like roses!" he remarks, and then asks, "What do I smell like?"

He leans over to me and I exaggerate inhaling. "I think you smell even better than I do," I chuckle.

"Well, I've lived here longer," he jokes.

"Very true."

The audience is now rolling in the aisles with laughter, a good sign that they'll be more receptive to what I have to say.

"Now, Peeta," he says after the audience has calmed, "Tell me, a handsome lad like you must have gotten to know at least one of these fine young ladies that are well suited for you."

The screen behind us lights up, and the pictures of the tributes the Gamemakers have recommended for me appear.

This is it. Time to implement the plan.

"Yes, actually," I reply. "And she makes me…  _so_  happy."

"Wonderful!" Caesar cheers, as does the audience. "Any hints as to who she might be?"

I sigh wistfully, feeling overcome by how wrong everyone in the room will think this is. Hopefully some will be sympathetic.

"Well, Caesar, to be honest… she came here with me."

I can hear some murmuring in the audience as they figure out that there's only one girl from District 12 pictured, and I can see the camera focusing in on Katniss, looking down at us, a mix of fear and longing in her eyes.

I try not to ramble as I continue, "See, I've had a crush on Katniss ever since I can remember, but it was only until the Reaping grew closer that she actually began to notice me. We then got to know each other better, and eventually decided to pair bond."

"My goodness," Caesar exclaims, enthralled with my tale. "Well, I don't think any of us can blame you. It'd be hard not to fall for that young lady. And so, how did you both end up here?"

"Caesar…" I say slowly, "Do you think all our friends here can keep a secret?"

"I… I feel quite certain of it," Caesar responds, trying not to look confused at where I'm going with this.

Here goes nothing.

"We are wrongfully in the Games."

The audience gasps in surprise, and fearing that I may lose them, I explain further, "We had already decided to pair, and agreed that before everything was made official, we wanted to have a private ceremony for ourselves. There's this marriage ritual in District 12—I don't know what it's like in other districts, but in 12 there's this thing we do… We make our first fire, toast some bread, and then share it, and that's what Katniss and I did to symbolize our commitment to one another."

"Were your families there?" asks Caesar.

I shake my head solemnly. "No, we didn't tell anyone. My mother especially would not have approved. But to us, we are already as paired as any other married couple. It's just that some paperwork wasn't filled out in time. And so our submission was rejected, and we were forced into the Reaping."

I can hear some cries of disapproval from the audience, and surprisingly, they are in my favor.

It's working! I keep going.

"And I can't help but think that some silly deadline shouldn't get in the way of us being together. It's been torture to have to go through all of this when I already feel in my heart that we are paired."

I can see Caesar's internal struggle, trying to be sympathetic toward me but not wanting to look like he is against the Capitol's system.

He does manage to come up with a good response. "Well, Peeta," he says, patting me on the shoulder, "I think I speak for all of Panem when I say our hearts go with yours for all that you've suffered. But nothing is for certain. You still may pair bond with her yet!"

The audience gives a large round of applause in my support, and I know that our sponsorship is increasing by the second, as are our odds of pairing on that big board.

But I still have Haymitch's part of the plan to put into action.

I shake my head in response, and say forlornly, "I just wish it  _were_  for certain... for the baby's sake."

The applause quickly turns into silence as the audience absorbs what I've just said, and then evolves into wails and roars. I can hear a few of the shouts from those closer to the stage:

"Just let them go! They're a family!"

"That paperwork doesn't matter!"

"He needs to be with his child!"

Caesar can sense he's quickly losing control, and is nowhere near prepared for the growing unrest in the audience. No tribute has ever admitted to a pre-pairing pregnancy, even if it was true. Cecilia certainly didn't say anything about hers…

But we aren't playing by the Capitol's rules anymore. We are no longer pieces in their Games. We are rebels.


	16. The Fallout

In a way, I'm elated that so many Capitol citizens are taking my side—it's just what Katniss and I need to make it out of the arena together, and what the rebellion needs in order to have any chance at succeeding—but I am a little frightened by the angry mob forming right in front of me. Caesar looks to the crew in the wings of the stage, and then gestures frantically for me to take my place with the other tributes as the buzzer goes off. He holds up his hands to quiet the audience, and at this point several of the more outspoken spectators decide to storm out.

"Please, ladies and gentlemen! We do have one tribute left! Please, take your seats, and join me in welcoming Dynah Morris!"

Dynah turns away from the cameras and gives me a death glare before descending the stairs for her interview.

Yep, she's definitely pissed that no one will be paying attention to her.

Her interview goes about as smoothly as one can imagine—everyone is still murmuring about the bombshell I dropped, and so the reactions she gets are minimal. By the end of her three minutes, she looks as if she's been sucking on a lemon the whole time.

I myself am rather shocked at their shock. I wonder if they even realize how many countless numbers of people in the districts have been through something like this—gotten pregnant before they've officially paired, had to make the difficult decision whether to keep it or not, risk the humiliation of having the child, or the Capitol's punishment of terminating the pregnancy…

I wonder if they realize that it's their own system that tears families apart.

Well, I suppose they realize it now.

Caesar thanks everyone for joining him and bids them goodnight, and then all of the tributes are dismissed off the stage. Katniss, however, remains immobile in her seat, her eyes transfixed on the floor. As we move single file offstage, I walk toward her and help her up.

"Are you okay?" I ask her quietly.

She nods, and I give her a small smile as I move a hand to her stomach, still acting for the audience. She glances down at the child that is supposed to be growing inside her, and when she looks back up at me, I can see tears in her eyes.

I'm not entirely sure why she's crying, but it works well with our strategy, so I decide to just go with it.

I sweep a strand of hair away from her face and let my hand softly caress her cheek, and I wonder if the cameras are on us because we're still onstage, even though the broadcast is over. I can't imagine they are—showing us like this would only add fuel to the rebels' fire, but I can see in my peripheral vision that most of the Capitol audience is still watching intently. I tilt her face toward mine and softly kiss her lips, and as we kiss, I can feel one of her tears run down my cheek.

I rub a thumb underneath her eyes to wipe away the tears, ruining her prep team's hard work by smudging her makeup, and I whisper, "Don't worry, my love. The odds should be in our favor now."

She nods, and I put my hand on the small of her back and lead her offstage, where our team meets us. Portia and Cinna are smiling admiringly at us, Haymitch is nodding his head in approval… and Effie is in hysterics.

"Oh, you poor dears!" she cries as she hugs us tightly. "I had no idea what you were going through! This is the kind of thing you tell your district escort right away so that we can take care of it! Those dullards who run your Justice Building will pay dearly for this!"

The eyes of the rest of the girls from District 12 are shooting daggers at us, jealous that we got all the attention.

I grab Katniss' hand in a silent plea, asking her with a tight squeeze if she would please not let them kill me. She squeezes my hand back in what I hope I can interpret as a yes.

Effie has dried her tears and gotten ahold of herself, and we are just about to make our way down the hallway to the elevators when about a dozen Peacekeepers surround us.

Oh no.

The plan backfired. We're going to be imprisoned like Annie and Finnick!

Shitshitshit…

I try not to look like I'm panicking, but I do give Katniss' hand an even tighter squeeze than before. We exchange a glance, and then hear someone's voice that we've never actually heard in person before:

"Ah, so these are our star-crossed lovers from District 12."

President Snow steps out from the Peacekeepers surrounding him and gazes down upon us. His voice is soft, but with a hint of malice, and his piercing, snakelike eyes stare at us like a predator about to eat its prey. His surgically altered lips seem to stretch across his face in a wicked smirk as he speaks again.

"Children, I would like to speak to you in private. Please follow me."

As he turns and strides away, I feel overcome by the smell of roses, and… unexpectedly, blood.

Peacekeepers jab us in our backs with the butts of their guns, and we lurch forward to follow the president down another hallway. I glance back and find everyone watching us in horror.

Not so jealous now, I bet.

Katniss and I are taken down a long corridor and are then separated into two different rooms. It's dark inside my room—there is just a single light bulb hanging overhead—and the only furniture in the room is a metal desk and two metal chairs. I sit down in one and try to take a deep breath, but it only comes as a shudder.

My mind starts to race with all of the terrible fates we may now suffer because of our insolence—being tortured or killed in any number of sickening ways, having our families tortured or killed, even making us watch or participate in the torture—and I bury my face in my hands to try and wipe my mind of such thoughts. But it doesn't work. We were so foolish to think we could break the Capitol's rules, and now we're probably going to pay with our lives.

My head spins with this thought for quite a long time, and I begin to think this is an interrogation tactic; let the enemy stew in their own anxiety until they're ready to crack.

The door to my room abruptly swings open, and President Snow enters silently with two Peacekeepers. They shut the door and step in front of it quickly as Snow strolls around the desk almost casually, the smell of blood and roses filling the air and making me gag. He doesn't sit, and instead chooses to remain standing with his hands folded in front of him, that creepy, stretched out grin overtaking his face.

"Peeta Mellark," he says my name, and I try not to hyperventilate. He continues, slow and steady, yet his tone filled with rage, "Seneca Crane alerted me to your insolent behavior on the very night you arrived here. He told me that you intended to pair bond with a girl from your own district. And while this is not expressly forbidden, it is a rare occurrence because Panem expects their tributes to take advantage of the grand opportunity presented to them. We provide you with an exceptional gift, the chance to find love and live in a district different from the one you were born. And do you know what you have done with that gift?"

He puts his hands on the table and leans over me intimidatingly. I somehow manage to shake my head 'no.'

Snow chuckles, "Come now, Peeta. Let's agree not to lie to each other. You know exactly what you have done with the gift we've given you. You've spit on it, and stepped on it, and made us look foolish for trying to give it to you. And I'm sure you know what we do to those who make us look foolish."

My eyes widen in fear. Of course. District 13. The only district that really managed to come together during the Dark Days, and accused the Capitol of causing unnecessary deaths by not properly caring for Panem's citizens. They challenged the system and made the Capitol look foolish, and so the district was blasted into oblivion.

"You've made us look foolish throughout your stay here. From your display of audacity in front of the Gamemakers on that first night, to the vulgar escapades in your bedchamber two nights ago—"

I can feel my cheeks heat up when he mentions the night I found Katniss waiting for me in my room.

I knew there were hidden cameras in there…

Snow continues, pacing slowly around the small room, "And unfortunately, you have now chosen to embarrass us publicly, which makes the task of disposing of you and your lover all the more challenging. I don't know if you've yet felt the full effect of what you've done today, Peeta Mellark, but let me tell you, you two have ignited a spark that, if left unattended, will grow into an inferno."

He stops and looks pointedly at me before he spits out the words that rock me to my very core:

"Trust me when I say that I plan to put out that spark, just as publicly as you  _star-crossed lovers_  ignited it."

And with that, he strolls out of the room, leaving me hanging on to the desk in order to remain upright, the implication of what he means spinning in my mind.

We may not just be paired with other tributes, we may not just end up as sterile Singles with our genitals mutilated, but we may even be killed in the arena, and be made examples of what happens when the Capitol's system is challenged. And knowing the Capitol, they would do it in such a way that they don't create martyrs out of us, but instead frighten everyone in Panem into submission.

The door opens and a Peacekeeper tells me he's come to take me to my room. I quickly stand and follow him out, feeling pressured to obey any command I get.

Yeah, like following orders will help me now.

The Peacekeeper accompanies me all the way up the elevator to my floor, and then walks me to my room and sees that I'm inside before leaving. Not knowing what else to do, I fall onto the bed and lay there for who knows how long, just staring at the ceiling.

At some point I hear a mechanical sound, and I turn my head to see the top of the nightstand next to my bed slide open, revealing a second tabletop with a steaming dinner plate full of delicious looking food on it.

Well, I guess they're still going to feed me, for now.

I unfortunately can barely eat any of it, too nervous to stomach the meal, knowing it may just come back up later on. I instead try to just keep my breathing under control as I lay on the bed.

It's not working.

I decide maybe it's because I'm uncomfortable in this suit, so I change into pajamas.

Still no luck.

I do feel tired, but my mind seems to race at a thousand miles an hour as I think of what Snow could possibly have in store for us…

Maybe they'll just blow us up right on our pedestals, and say it was a 'tragic technical malfunction.'

Maybe they'll be able to separate us from everyone else with some engineered natural disaster, and then let it get out of control and kill us. Another 'heartbreaking accident.'

Maybe it will be as simple as not letting us get any food, so that we starve to death. I'm sure they'll be able to spin it and say that we weren't resourceful enough to find food, and therefore weren't fit to reproduce anyway.

Whatever they come up with, I'm sure it will be good enough to scare future cohorts of 18-year olds into pairing as early as possible, so they do not suffer the same fate we do.

Ugh, I cannot just lie here and keep ruminating about this! I'll surely go crazy before morning, and then I really  _won't_  be able to pair with Katniss in the arena because I'll be too batshit to even function.

I wonder if she's feeling just as anxious as I am…

Oh! Katniss!

I gasp and abruptly sit up, realizing I haven't even seen Katniss since Snow separated us. Maybe just laying eyes on her will help me feel better, help me to recognize that she's okay, at least for right now. Maybe we'll be able to talk about all of this and help put each other at ease.

I peek out my bedroom door into the hallway, and don't see a single soul. Perfect. I tiptoe over to Katniss's door and turn the handle to open it.

"Who's there?" she whispers, frightened.

"It's me," I reply as I slip in and gingerly close the door. It still makes entirely too much noise.

"Peeta, I—You shouldn't be here," she protests, sitting up in bed, and I stop in my tracks. That's when I notice she's torn her whole room apart—clothes, papers, bottles of Capitol styling products—everything is strewn all over the place.

I smile at little at the mess. Yep, that's my girl on fire.

Remembering her objection to me being in her room, I stumble for a response, "I know. I just wanted to… I mean, we're as good as dead anyway, right?"

My words hang in the air for a while, until I finally hear her sigh loudly and respond, "I guess you're right." She shifts over in the bed, making room for me, and I join her underneath the covers.

I wrap my arms around her, and she buries her head in the crook of my neck, letting out shallow, shaky breaths.

"What, um… What did Snow say to you?" I ask her, figuring she can't get his words out of her mind either.

She scoffs and answers, "He told me that shooting an arrow at the Gamemakers sealed my fate long before the stunt we pulled today. He insinuated that he knew how I had learned to even shoot a bow, and that alone was cause enough to have me publicly executed. He said he was going to make sure that it would be a  _very_  public event."

My arms wrap tighter around her instinctively, as if I can shield her from a threat standing right in front of us. But I know in my rational mind that the threat will come tomorrow, and that it will likely be something I don't stand a chance against.

Katniss lets out a frustrated groan and laments, "This is exactly why I tried to stay away from all of this in the first place!"

"Tried to… What are you talking about?" I ask, pulling her back so I can look into her eyes.

She can barely look at me, and I notice her bottom lip quivering as she tries to speak, "I—I never, um…" She pauses and takes a deep breath, and then continues, "My mother was never the same after my father died. She became just… a shell of herself. And as I watched her turn further inward, shutting out everyone else in the world, I thought, what is the point of loving someone if it causes so much pain when they're gone? And I knew I could provide for myself, and for her and Prim, and so I thought that's all I would ever need to do. I would be able to handle that kind of future. I knew I would enter into the Reaping, and come here, but my plan had always been to become a Single, and never—"

Her breath hitches, and she has to cover her face for a moment in order to get her final thought out.

"And never give my heart away to someone, so I'd never have to feel the pain of losing him." She chokes on a humorless laugh, "But you just had to go and ruin all of that, didn't you?"

I cup her face in my hands, running my thumbs over the tears now falling on her cheeks.

"I… I'm sorry," I whisper.

It's a lie. I'm not sorry at all. I'm glad to have had at least this much time with Katniss, and would gladly make the same choice again, even if I knew it meant I would have to exchange my life for it. In my mind, she's worth giving my life for.

"No, it's okay," she protests, leaning against my shoulder. "In a way, you've helped remind me of how happy my mother was when my father was alive. I mean, I know that sounds weird, but… I've looked at myself in the mirror every morning this week, and could almost… see my mother's smile in the reflection. I've just been…  _really_  happy—happier than I ever thought I could ever be—and I've realized that maybe, giving my heart is worth all the pain that comes later, if it means I can be this happy now."

Her words make my insides feel like they're about to explode with joy. All that I've ever wanted is for Katniss to be happy, and it turns out that what makes her happiest is being with me. It's more than I could ever ask for, and makes me feel ready to die in that arena tomorrow if that's what it comes to, because I know my purpose in life has been fulfilled.

I tilt her chin so that I can look deep into her eyes, and bring my lips down to meet hers. She sighs into the kiss and wraps her arms around me, squeezing me tightly as if instinctively threatened by the unknown dangers that await us tomorrow. I hold on to her just as firmly, feeling as though each kiss is more finite, more significant than the one before it. I try to concentrate on the feel of her lips grazing against mine, memorizing every detail of how she smells, how she tastes, knowing that after tonight, I may never kiss her lips again.

She then moves her kisses along my jawline and up to my ear, and I shudder in pleasure as she grazes her teeth against my lobe. In response, I nip at her shoulder, sucking on the love bites I created yesterday, making them more pronounced. Katniss presses against me as we find each other's mouths again, and I lean us back so that I'm resting against the headboard of the bed, knowing she can feel the evidence of my arousal.

She pulls back and we exchange a small smile, knowing what we both need tonight in order to be able to face whatever we may come up against tomorrow.

In one swift movement, Katniss discards her nightgown, letting it land in the pile of her belongings, and I relish how silky and warm her skin feels as I run my fingertips up and down her torso. I leave a trail of goose bumps in my wake, and she gasps when my thumbs brush across her hard nipples. She pulls back to look at me, a smirk playing on her lips, and she positions her supple breasts right in front of my face. I take a nipple in my mouth, anticipating the moan I'll elicit from her.

"Ugh!  _Yess…_ " she hisses, throwing her head back.

I love how vocal she is.

I hate that this is the last time I'll get to hear her moans.

Her hands find their way up my shirt, running over the panes of my own chest, and so I swiftly detach myself from her breast in order to remove the shirt. But before I can come back to her, she already has her mouth on me. She runs her tongue along my neck, down to my collarbone, and finally reaching my own nipples.

As she flicks one with her tongue, I am surprisingly pleased at how the sensation makes me tingle all over. When she does it a second time, I realize that most of the tingling is concentrating in my dick, and she laughs as I squirm under her touch.

She then continues south, moving her mouth lower until she hits the elastic of my pajama bottoms. She smirks up at me, and I suddenly understand what she's about to do. I comply as she slowly pulls my pants down, leaving my erection exposed, and when she puts her mouth on me, I audibly gasp at the sensation of her surrounding me.

I think to myself how different this feels from anything else I've experienced as she experiments with her tongue and lips. She's extremely receptive, immediately correcting herself after I yelp at the graze of her teeth, and taking me further into her mouth once I groan at the amount of suction she's created.

When she uses her hands on my sensitive areas as well as her mouth, I almost lose it right there.

"Oh, Katniss…  _shit—ugh_ , come back up,  _please_ —"

She stills and hesitantly moves so we're face to face again, and I can see the uncertainty in her eyes, as if she thinks she did something wrong.

I caress her cheek and place a light kiss on her lips, and then tell her, "That… felt  _so_  good. But, I don't want to finish that way tonight. I just… want to be as close as possible to you."

A smile spreads across her lips, and she kisses me softly. "I want that too," she whispers, and shifts so she can discard her underwear. I trace my fingers down to her soft flesh, still entirely bare from her wax, and I push a couple fingers up inside her. Her breath hitches and she whimpers as I find her already so wet, and when I remove my fingers I don't even hesitate to bring them to my mouth.

She watches, mesmerized, as I taste her sweet juices and let out a hum of satisfaction as I savor it. And then, she pounces, pressing her entire body against me, kissing me, and telling me in between ragged breaths, "That was  _so_  hot."

She lowers herself onto me, and I groan at the feeling of her surrounding me. This angle, and the amount of control she has, is much different than last time when I was on top of her. I follow her lead, driving myself up into her as she grinds down on me, and once I've become used to her rhythm, I'm able to concentrate more on her breasts, her neck, her ears. And this time, fueled by the motivation to give her more than one orgasm, I concentrate hard on not letting myself fall over the edge as she rides out her first wave of pleasure. She wraps her arms tightly around me and her rhythm is thrown off course as her body trembles above me, and I can't help but think of how I wish I had more time left of my life to be able to see her beautiful face as she comes.

I let her fall against me and get her breathing under control as I gently draw circles and random patterns on her back with my fingertips. Her walls are still contracting around me, and it intensifies the throbbing I'm feeling, and I know I won't be able to hold on for too much longer.

"Do you… want me to be on the top?" I ask.

"Um… Yeah. Okay," she replies, somewhat dazed. She gets off of me and I instantly feel cold and alone, and I scramble to get on top of her as fast as I can so that I can find that feeling of completeness again.

I gaze down upon her, her cheeks still slightly pink and her pupils wide, and tell her, "No matter what happens, no one can take this away from us." She smiles and nods her head in agreement, and I gradually slide myself back inside of her. As we move in tandem, I try to savor every moment, every look and touch and sensation. I start to feel pricks of tears in my eyes, thinking how heartbreaking it is that there is so much I still want to experience with this magnificent woman, and yet I won't be able to.

I bury my head in the crook of her neck to hide my tears as the swirl of emotions in my body—pain, pleasure, anger, fear—overflows until I no longer have control of them. I grab hold of Katniss tightly as I spill my seed into her, and when I feel her pulsating around me as well, I can't help but feel a little proud that I was at least able to make her come twice in a row before we face our deaths tomorrow.

* * *


	17. The Arena

Loud pounding on the door jerks me from an otherwise peaceful sleep. I glance around and find I'm still in Katniss' trashed room, my clothes now tangled in the heap, and that Katniss herself is covering her head with a pillow, groaning over the noise.

"I know you're both in there!" Haymitch shouts to us as he hammers on the door with his fist. "Get decent, cause I'm comin' in!"

"Oh, shit!" Katniss whispers, scrambling to cover herself with the blankets. I quickly grab my shirt off the floor and give it to her, and she smiles and shoves it over her head just as Haymitch turns the handle.

He surveys the room from the doorway, taking in the mess, and then chuckles to himself as he closes the door and takes a seat at her desk.

"You two have a wild night last night or what?" he asks, but the joke dies on his lips when he realizes we're not laughing. We're annoyed that he's barging in on us, annoyed that he's about to burst our perfect little bubble, and that the time has finally come for us to face the arena.

He clears his throat and continues, "The, uh, hovercrafts will be here in a few minutes, so I just wanted to… Well, I need to go over a few final things with you kids."

"Okay… Like what?" I ask, intertwining my fingers with Katniss's under the covers.

Haymitch tells us, "Well, I talked with some of the others, and we decided that because of your performance last night, you two will be our linchpin. You're the most popular ones in these Games, and so we need to secure your pairing before anyone else's. Nothing else is put into action until you two pair, so just… pair quickly. That means, locate each other as you stand on the pedestals, find each other after the gong sounds, and take off as fast as you can. Steer clear of the Cornucopia—"

"But, what if we need supplies?" Katniss interrupts him.

"You won't," Haymitch assures her. "There will even be a bow there, but sweetheart, don't you go for it. They're gonna try to pull you in with that shit, but that's not your game. We don't want you to stay in that arena longer than you have to, all right? Just, find water if you have to, and don't step off that pedestal early, or they'll blow you sky high."

Katniss and I exchange a glance, a silent promise to do as Haymitch says and get out of the arena as fast as possible.

He stands and tells us, "You kids can do this."

"Thanks," I reply with a nod.

After he leaves, I turn back to the beautiful woman I was lucky enough to share a bed with last night. I squeeze her hand tightly and press her forehead to mine.

"I don't know about you, but I slept great," I tell her, and she chuckles a little in response.

"It's too bad we can't sleep like that every night," she laments, and I can feel her eyebrows knitting together in frustration.

I pull back to look at her and tell her, "Don't worry, we'll be back together before you even know it. We just follow Haymitch's instructions, and we'll be fine. We may even be rescued before the end of the day."

She takes a deep breath and nods her head, probably trying to reassure herself as much as she's nodding to agree with me. I cup her face in my hands and plant my lips softly against hers, and she sighs as she relaxes into the kiss. It's soft, and tender, and fills me with hope that maybe all the fear I had last night was for nothing. As we part, we share a small smile, and I brush a few stray hairs behind her ear.

"I guess I'll… see you in there," she tells me, a slight grimace appearing on her face before recovering into a reassured expression.

"I'll be looking for you," I reply, and place one last kiss on her lips before gathering my clothes.

"Oh, your shirt—"

"You can keep it. At least for now. I'll get it back from you later," I tell her with a wink as I exit her room.

I shower and dress quickly into the last outfit that's left in my closet: a dark t-shirt, some dark green cargo pants, a sturdy brown belt, and a pair of boots that look like they'll be heavy but I find I can actually move around in all right. I'm just finishing strapping my feet into the boots when there's a knock at my door and Portia pokes her head in.

"You ready?" she asks. "Your hovercraft is here."

I nod and we walk out into the hallway to the stairs that will take us to the roof. I take one last fleeting look at the garden, remembering the blissful afternoon Katniss and I spent there, as Portia guides me to the other side of the rooftop, where the hovercraft is waiting. A ladder drops down from inside and I begin to climb up it, and suddenly find that I'm frozen in place. Portia hangs on behind me as the ladder is hoisted up into the hovercraft, and once safely inside, a woman in a white coat grabs hold of my arm and points a giant syringe in my direction.

I can't speak, still held in place by some kind of force field, but luckily the woman answers my question for me.

"This is your tracker," she says, somewhat bored. I'm sure she's given this same speech to many other tributes today. "I'm going to insert it into your arm so we can monitor your vitals."

I'm actually glad I'm frozen in place as she jabs the needle into my forearm, a sharp pain radiating through me as the small, metal device is inserted under my skin. I know I would not have cooperated if I had been able to move.

I'm released from the ladder as soon as the woman is done placing the tracker, and Portia helps me to a chair in a small dining area that's been set up for us. She lets me eat in silence, only giving a direction to an Avox here or there to bring more of something. I eat almost everything on the table, starving from barely eating anything yesterday, but I feel so full of adrenaline that the food almost makes almost no impact on me.

It's good, I suppose—I don't want to feel so stuffed with food that I won't be able to, er… perform.

After about a half hour of flying, the windows in our cabin black out and overhead lights come on, which can only mean that we're getting close to the arena. Hovercraft crewmembers soon come to open the hatch and drop down the ladder, and Portia gestures for me to head down first. The ladder leads down into catacombs underneath the arena, where Peacekeepers await to guide us to my Launch Room.

As we walk through the corridors, I'm reminded of the labyrinth of hallways underneath the Training Center, and how those Capitol people must enjoy these underground mazes.

We finally arrive at a door with the words 'Peeta Mellark, District 12' permanently marked in gold letters. I hear that after the Games, the arenas become very popular destinations for Capitol people to visit. Newly wedded couples, called 'honeymooners,' especially enjoy touring the catacombs, re-watching the Games, and visiting the sites where their favorite couples pair bonded. Some of the more adventurous honeymooners even try to reenact the sex scenes right where they first happened… or so I'm told.

Portia helps me into a hooded black jacket, which we find on a hanger inside the Launch Room.

"This material on the inside of the jacket is designed to reflect body heat," she tells me, running her fingers along the lining. "They probably have some cool nights in store for you."

"Good thing I'm planning to be out of the arena by the time night comes," I reply.

Portia nods at me in approval. "Good. Just focus on pairing as quickly as possible," she instructs, echoing Haymitch's words. "You know, I checked your standings this morning, and you have a lot of sponsors lined up. Your chances of pairing with Katniss are 4:1."

My eyes widen in shock. I expected the odds to be in my favor, but I never expected them to be that good.

A woman's voice comes through the small speaker in the corner of the ceiling: "One minute to launch."

Suddenly, President Snow's words from last night come rushing back to me, and I can feel myself start to tremble, so scared and so anxious that I almost feel like my legs are going to collapse out from under me. Once I load myself into the tube that will take me up into the arena, my life will be in his hands. And he is most likely going to crush me like a bug.

Portia steadies me as I get into the glass cylinder, and then it immediately shuts, isolating me. She says something to me with a hopeful smile, but I can't tell what she says because her voice is muffled through the tube. The metal plate at my feet begins to rise, and I am pushed up out of the catacomb and emerge into bright sunlight.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but I can already feel a warm breeze at my back, and I hear the legendary announcer, Claudius Templesmith, declare, "Ladies and gentlemen, let the Seventy-sixth Mating Games begin!"

Claudius begins to count down the sixty seconds we're required to stay on our pedestals, and I open my eyes and find myself in a clearing, facing the large, metal Cornucopia. The first thing that I notice about it is, in addition to the usual food and supplies provided to the tributes, there are a disproportionate amount of weapons sitting right inside the mouth of the Cornucopia. Usually tributes are able to get their hands on a knife or an axe, in order to utilize the natural resources in the arena for survival, but what the Gamemakers have supplied here are not practical. There are several types of swords, spears, daggers, and there are also two sets of bows and arrows.

I begin to wonder why exactly they would provide us with these things, and as I glance around at the other tributes, it hits me. One look at Cato's menacing expression as he drools over the plethora of weapons, and I know. They're there for the Careers—the Capitol's pets—so they can kill us rebels.

I resolve not to present them with the opportunity.

I frantically search for Katniss and find her almost on the other side of the Cornucopia near a thick tree line. Her eyes find mine and even in this great distance, I can see her expression turn up into a smile.

Then, something else catches her eye, and she reacts in horror.

Annie, just a few tributes away from Katniss, is wobbling on her pedestal. I can hear her laughing as she tries to regain her balance, and I feel knots form in the pit of my stomach. They've drugged her again, only now the situation is much more dire. If she takes even a foot off her pedestal, the land mine underneath her will explode.

Katniss turns her head back to me with fear in her eyes, and I can see her feet slightly shift toward Annie, ready to jump off her platform to help her friend. I immediately shake my head, trying silently to reason with her.

Just a few more seconds. That's all we have left until we can move. But for the love of cake, Katniss cannot move until that gong sounds.

Five… four… three… two…one…

The gong rings out around us, and chaos ensues. Tributes run all around me, grabbing up supplies and calling out for their intended mates. I keep my focus on Annie, who jerks her head toward the woods, as if trained to respond to that sound of a gong, and then takes off into the trees. Katniss, who has also been watching Annie, jumps off her platform and heads for the woods where Annie disappeared.

This plan is good enough for me, so I take off running in that direction as well.

I weave my way through the confusion, managing to pick up a lone spear laying on the ground on my way to the forest, thinking I'll at least have something to defend myself with against the Careers, if it comes to that.

I finally make it into the woods and begin to call out Katniss's name. I stumble around aimlessly, calling out for Katniss and losing my sense of direction among the tall trees. I try to turn back toward the clearing, thinking she still may be there waiting for me, but I've gone so far into the forest that I'm surrounded by trees as far as I can see.

_Fuck!_

I've lost her. I've even lost myself!

No, I can't think like that. She couldn't have gotten too far. Just keep looking for her.

I continue to trample through the woods, still searching for Katniss, but not shouting out her name as loudly or as often. By now, anyone could be out here, and I don't want to risk someone else coming upon me and doing what they want with me.

Suddenly, to my left, I hear a branch break. I turn and see nothing, but I hear some scraping against a tree and so I follow the noise. As I get closer, I can hear grunting and moaning, and it's too late before I realize what's going on and have time to turn back.

I've stumbled upon a pair of tributes—the fox-faced girl from District 5 and the shorter one of the boys from District 10—having sex right here in the woods.

They luckily don't notice me, and so I'm able to immediately turn around and gain some distance between them and myself. But I'm still able to hear the boy groan loudly as he climaxes, and immediately a firework shoots off over our heads, signaling to the other tributes that a couple has officially pair bonded.

Before I can even blink, a hovercraft appears out of nowhere—just like Katniss had described to me when she saw that Avox in the woods outside District 12—and a force field surrounds the couple and pulls them up into the hovercraft. As I watch the hatch to the hovercraft close and vessel disappear out of sight, I notice the photos of the newly paired couple materialize as a hologram in the sky, letting everyone know who is no longer available.

I look back at the spot where I first saw them, and can't believe they were right there having sex not mere seconds ago, and now they've been whisked away back to the Capitol to be prepped for the presentation of the pair bonds. There, they will receive their assignment to a district, as well as their occupational assignments, and Caesar Flickerman will interview them once again, this time as a newly married couple.

I doubt the rebels are going to have me attending that ceremony.

I continue to trudge through the forest, keeping an eye out for a long braid of auburn hair and Seam gray eyes. Every so often, a firework shoots off, and more tribute photos come into view in the sky. Cooley and Blight, the boy from 7. Seeder, the only tribute from 11 that I don't know personally, and Woof, the only boy from 8. Cecilia and the boy from 9, Silo, who I can only hope is the father of her unborn child. And, of course, there are two Career pairings already: Lyme, from 2, and Gill, from 4, as well as Enobaria, from 2, and Gloss, from 1.

There are only 23 tributes left of the original 35, myself included. And all the tributes I consider to be a risk are still at large.

I've got to find Katniss, and soon.

The sun is setting through the trees now, and I'm starting to feel parched. I remember what Haymitch said about only needing to find water if I have to, and I feel ashamed that I've been in the arena so long that securing nourishment is now a legitimate concern. Katniss and I should have talked about our plan more, strategized better. Now I'm all alone in the wilderness, likely going to starve to death.

I'm sure Snow will be pleased.

Unable to walk any further, I sink down onto the forest floor, leaning my head against a tree. I close my eyes and try to consider of how Katniss is faring out here. I smile to myself, thinking of how Katniss is probably doing just fine, living off the land like she does in the woods back home, killing off squirrels and knowing which leaves are edible. Perhaps she was able to catch up to Annie and is helping her sober up. I bet she has a five-course meal laid out for her and Annie, and they're discussing how they can find me by catching me in a snare.

Suddenly, I hear the 'thwap' of a bow release, and open my eyes to find an arrow flying toward my head. I shout in horror and try to move, but the arrow has already lodged itself in the fabric of the arm of my jacket, pinning me against the tree I've been leaning on.

I take a look at the arrow, and know only one girl who has that kind of aim.

I glance up hopefully and find that, unfortunately, the girl I'm thinking of is not the one approaching me right now. The girl swiftly making her way toward me has large, green eyes, her hair is in two long, blonde braids, and she has a wicked smirk on her face.

Oh  _fuck_ , it's Cashmere! I'm a goner!

"No, please!" I start to beg, trying to pull the arrow from the tree. It won't budge, and I can't seem to wriggle my way out of the jacket either, and so that only leaves me with pleading. "Please, Cashmere, you really don't want me! I'm a baker, I'd make you gain 200 pounds with all the cakes and cookies I'd feed you, I'd—"

She smacks me across the face, clearly wanting me to shut up.

"I'm not Cashmere," the girl tells me, looking annoyed. "I am Glimmer."

Glimmer?

"You are?" I ask in disbelief.

She sighs exasperatedly, " _Yes!_  I'm Glimmer. I mean, I know Cashmere and I are cousins and all, but I don't see why people can't tell us apart."

I look again at the blonde hair, green eyes and objectively attractive figure, and shrug in response. I sure as hell can't tell the difference.

"Whatever," she says, rolling her eyes. "At least I was able to find you. I've been searching for something useful for hours."

My brow creases in confusion over the meaning of her words. How am I so useful?

"What do you mean?" I ask.

She drops her pack and takes out an apple. I watch her take a large bite out of it, and I suddenly remember how very hungry I am.

"Well, clearly you're on the hunt for your baby-mama, Lover Boy, and so am I," she tells me in between bites.

"Wh—why?" I inquire, the emptiness in my stomach distracting me from what she's saying. Why is she looking for Katniss?

"Because wherever she is, Cato is sure to be close by as well. He's the one I'm after, and if we find her, we'll probably find him."

What! Glimmer wants Cato? Does she even understand how big of a douche Cato is? How arrogant and abusive he can be? I mean, she even said herself that he's stalking another girl!

I am  _so_  not helping her find Cato. Aside from the implication that he'd even be able to get close enough to Katniss—who I  _know_  knows how to outsmart predators in the woods—if he lays eyes on me, he is likely to slaughter me without a second thought.

"We?" I ask incredulously, and she laughs at this, pulling back the arrow that's pinning me down and releasing it like a spring. It whacks into my arm and I wince in pain.

"Yes, 'we,'" she replies with a grin. "I'm holding you hostage until we find them."

She finishes her apple and throws it into the woods.

"And, what if we don't find them?" I ask, afraid of the answer.

She points at me and tells me, "You're my contingency plan. With your blond hair and muscular build, you're not quite as good as Cato, but you'll do in a pinch."

Glimmer winks at me then, and I feel my throat go dry and my stomach churn, and I can't help but wonder how my odds on the giant betting board in that plaza are looking now.


	18. The Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: This chapter contains violence and the suggestion of rape. I recommend you grab a box of tissues and/or something cuddly now.

I feel like it's been dusk for hours. The Gamemakers do that sometimes, because it makes every shot they get look so picturesque—perfect for making teenagers fucking in the woods look romantic on TV.

It's  _anything_  but romantic for me right now. Glimmer has my hands tied and is dragging me through the forest. She came out of the Cornucopia with a pretty good haul—in her pack she has a knife, some rope, hand warmers, a flashlight, a washcloth, bug spray, a small ration of food, and a half-gallon water bottle filled with water. She also managed to come away with the bow and arrows that I _know_  are meant for Katniss.

Although, I guess if she was able to catch me with them, she must be a pretty good shot too.

Glimmer has actually been a fairly civilized captor. She shared some crackers from her food ration with me, as well as a few sips of water. And she even let me use a little bug spray, once we started being eaten alive by mosquitos.

"Keep up, Lover Boy! That sun's gonna set eventually!" she hollers as I practically fall over a tree root.

Right now, however, I'm finding her to be a big pain in the ass.

"Glimmer, can we…" I pant, struggling to catch my breath, "Can we rest a bit? We've… we've been walking all day…"

She turns to me and makes a sour face, and then drops her pack. "Fine," she replies dismissively. "I want some more water anyway."

We sit on the forest floor and she shares her water again, and as soon as the cool, refreshing liquid hits my lips, I'm suddenly not so annoyed anymore.

"Thanks," I say, passing the bottle back to her. She caps it and puts it in her pack, then lies against the trunk of a tree.

"Well, I have to keep you useful…" she tells me matter-of-factly. "I just can't believe we haven't found them yet!"

I nod in agreement. "This forest seems to go on and on…"

Since getting myself lost this morning, I have yet to come across any landscape that isn't trees. Although knowing me, I'm probably just going in circles and not realizing it.

Maybe Glimmer isn't any better than I am at navigating.

"Well their pictures haven't appeared in the sky," she reminds me, "so there's still some hope yet."

"Glimmer, if you don't mind me asking…"

"I might mind, but go on."

"Why Cato?"

I try not to appear too judgmental as I say it, but I still think it comes out sounding a little critical.

She sighs and picks up a stick, peeling the bark off it absentmindedly. "I know he's kind of an asshole," she starts. "I mean, he was playing hot and cold with me all this week. It made me so mad! But… I dunno, he's just everything on my list."

"Your list?" I inquire.

"I made a list before I came to the Capitol," she explains, "of all the qualities I'm looking for in a mate. Strong. Handsome. Blonde. And when I saw Cato at the mixer that first night, I just… knew. And later that night when we made out, that sealed it— _gah_ , he knows just how to touch a woman."

Her eyes appear to roll into the back of her head as she says this, and it makes me feel a little awkward to hear such private things about the love life of the last two people I want to hear that stuff about. But I do understand what she means—the physical connection I have with Katniss just intensifies my feelings for her.

Glimmer continues, "So yeah, he blew me off and treated me like shit for half the week. But he's everything on my list. Everything to help me strengthen my image in my district, just like I'm the perfect wife for him to take home to his. All depends on where the Gamemakers assign us, I suppose."

"So that's it? You want someone who will help you with your reputation?" I ask, rather disgusted with her.

"Absolutely," Glimmer responds without a blink of an eye. "Look, I don't know what they do in the backwoods of District 12, but in our districts, it is all about status. We don't pair for love, we pair for obligation. We pair because it would advance us in the social hierarchy, and because our children would be gorgeous, or strong, or whatever trait we hope our children to have. Love and marriage are two very separate things."

"But… that's just so sad," I argue. "You choose to spend the rest of your life with someone, to be their partner, to raise children with them, but love doesn't play into it at all?"

Glimmer shrugs, peeling off the last few pieces of bark from the stick in her hands. "We just… find love in different places. In our districts, it's very common to have lovers outside of a marriage. Like all good trends, it's something we picked up from the Capitol. Some tributes do come back from the Games with a mate they love… but that's usually a Career pair bonding with a non-Career. Like, there was that boy from your district a couple years ago…"

"Gale?" I ask dryly.

"Sure, whatever," she replies, brushing it off. "You could tell just by watching them that they really loved each other. And of course, him being  _so_  handsome helped when they returned to her district—Cato says they gained instant status."

My resentful mood disappears as she says those final words. Suddenly, everything is so clear.

"That's why Cato wants Katniss. For the social value."

"Duh," Glimmer replies, chucking the stick away. "Why else would he want  _her_? Er, no offense."

And that's when we hear it. The crunch of leaves under feet, moving  _very_  fast. Followed by another, slower set of crunches, and a male voice accompanying them.

"You won't get too far with that leg, Eleven!"

Glimmer and I both turn to see Katniss practically jump onto a low tree branch and begin to climb, Cato short on her heels.

"Cato!" Glimmer cries, quickly gathering her things and leaping up to go after him. Unfortunately, she still has me by the rope, so I'm dragged along until I can get my footing and run with her.

"You're gonna show me what kind of racy stunt you pulled to get that eleven!" he threatens her as he scales the tree. The only thing that makes me feel better is that, as we get closer to them, I can see that she is much higher up the tree than he is.

What makes me feel even better is when he loses his footing and falls to the ground with a thud.

"Cato!" Glimmer is still screaming his name as she approaches him, and she kneels to the ground in front of him to check and see if he's okay.

I look up at Katniss, and she is, to say the least, surprised to see me.

Cato groans and sits up, and Glimmer laughs in relief.

"Oh my gah, I thought you were dead for sure!" she says as she hugs him tightly. He wriggles out of her grasp and stands, and a puzzled look comes over his face when he sees me standing behind her.

"This your love slave?" he asks her, gesturing to me, and she folds her arms in response.

"We were looking for  _you_ ," she tells him. "I had a feeling you'd be with his baby-mama."

"Just found her," Cato announces proudly, brushing the dead leaves off his clothes. He looks pointedly at me and says, "She was in the river. You know, she's really sexy when she's all wet."

He clearly only said that to get a rise out of me, and even though I'm smart enough to know that, it still doesn't stop me from lunging at him in a hateful rage.

"You better not have touched her!" I snarl as Glimmer yanks me back.

Cato is laughing hysterically at my display.

"Don't worry, Lover Boy. I haven't… yet," he tells me ominously. "I almost did though. Her leg's all charred, which slowed her down. But not slow enough!" He shouts that last part up at Katniss, who is watching our scuffle safely from the treetops.

"Why are you even still interested?" Glimmer asks him. "She's damaged goods."

Cato scoffs, "You say that like you think I don't know what  _you've_  been up to this past week. I saw you all over Brutus and Gill at those parties!"

"Okay, Lyme  _dared_  me to fuck Brutus," Glimmer defends herself. "And Gill… Well, Gill's uncircumcised. Couldn't pass that opportunity up."

"Yeah. Okay." Cato's attention is back on Katniss, and I can see him thinking over all the different ways to get to her.

Glimmer steps forward and shoves him angrily, bringing his focus back to her. "Do you really want to raise this fucker's kid?" she asks, gesturing to me, and I can't help rolling my eyes at them.

"Whatever, it's one down for the quota," Cato replies, craning his neck back up to the treetops.

Glimmer groans, frustrated, and yells, "Then just let Lover Boy get her down!"

"What was that?" Cato asks, turning back toward us.

"I just mean…" Glimmer thinks for a moment, and then continues, annoyed, "I mean, he's good with words. Maybe he can convince her to come down. Problem solved."

Cato gestures for me to come forward, but I stay planted in my spot.

"No way. Why on earth would I try and help you do this?" I ask them, my arms crossed over my chest.

Cato approaches me slowly, unsheathing a sword from his belt. "Because this year, to spice things up a little, we've been given free rein to  _kill_  any tribute who stands in our way of the mate we want. How about  _that_  for a reason?"

He jabs the sword in my direction for emphasis, and I flinch.

I  _knew_  that's why all those weapons were at the Cornucopia!

Trembling slightly, Cato's sword still pointed at me, I come forward and look up to the top of the tree, where Katniss has secured herself to it with some rope of her own.

"Katniss?" I call out. "How—how's it going up there?"

"Fine," she calls down. "The breeze is nice."

"That's good…" I pause, unsure of what to say next.

Then it comes to me.

"You eat anything today?"

"Um…" she stammers, "Just some dried beef and fruit from my pack. I set some snares earlier, but..."

Cato interrupts us, laughing, "Those won't do you any good all the way up there!"

Thanks, Captain Obvious.

I turn back to him and Glimmer, looking annoyed with the whole situation. "Let's just wait her out," I suggest to them. "She's gotta come down eventually—it's that or starve to death. But right now, I'm tired. I need to sleep. Glimmer and I have been hiking through this damn forest all day… We can just, deal with Katniss in the morning."

After a beat, Cato responds, "Okay. Somebody make a fire."

As if on cue, the sun finally sets over the horizon.

It worked. We have some time.

Glimmer finally releases me from the rope bind, and she and I silently build a fire while Cato uses his sword on some low-hanging tree branches. A part of me thinks he's doing this for intimidation, but he also may be just showing off to the girls at how skilled he is in combat.

I'm sure his true intentions are a little of both.

We sit by the fire, Cato and Glimmer snuggling up to each other, and me, trying to ignore them. They eat, but Glimmer doesn't offer me any food this time. I honestly didn't expect she would, with Cato here. And feeling fatigued from all the walking and little to eat and being held hostage, I lie down on the forest floor and quickly fall into a deep sleep.

There is a dim morning light in the arena when I wake up.

Something—a nut, a pinecone, something—hit me in the forehead.

I sit up slowly and rub my face to wake up. I look over and see Cato and Glimmer still asleep on the other side of the fire, which has long gone out. I glance around the rest of the forest, and don't see a single soul. I don't even hear footsteps.

Then, something else hits me on the head and falls to my side. I pick it up and examine it.

An acorn.

I look up into the trees, thinking it's Katniss who's throwing them, but someone else catches my eye instead.

Rue!

Rue is up in a nearby tree, waving at me and smiling. I hold up the acorn to her, and she nods and covers her face, trying to stifle her laughter. I shrug my shoulders in a gesture to ask, 'why,' and she points over to the tree Katniss is in.

My eyes widen in fear as I process what I'm seeing. Katniss is up even higher now, practically swaying the tree back and forth, slowly cutting down a branch with a nest of tracker jackers hanging from it.

That nest is about to fall right on us.

Phyl was stung by a tracker jacker when he was 11—he and his dumbass friends were playing dangerously close to the fence, where some nests still exist from the war, and I swear, everyone in the district could hear him scream when he was stung. At first I thought it was because he was in pain, but it was really the hallucinations. My father actually took him to the Everdeen's for treatment—I begged to go with them, but Father refused to let me go. It was the only time he ever really yelled at me, telling me how shameful it was to use my sick brother like that. I was mad at him for weeks.

As I watch Katniss saw through the branch, I remember how Phyl writhed on his bed as the hallucinations overtook him. It made me never want to be stung by one of those things,  _ever_. And especially not now, with the stakes so high.

I look back to Rue, and she gestures with her fingers for me to tiptoe away from the others, slowly.

I nod at her in understanding, and ever so cautiously, I stand up and creep away from the camp, in the direction of Rue's tree. I look back once or twice, just to see how much further away I need to get, and to see if Cato and Glimmer have woken up. Luckily they're still peacefully asleep in each other's arms.

I hide behind a tree even further past Rue's, hoping I'll be far enough away that the tracker jackers won't spread out that much. And for good measure, I even climb a few branches, just in case either Glimmer or Cato runs in my direction.

It isn't long before I hear the 'crack' of the branch as it falls to the ground, splitting the nest open. Cato and Glimmer wake up screaming, Glimmer swatting at the swarm of tracker jackers surrounding them, thinking this will shoo them all away.

Cato grabs her arm and shouts, "This way! To the lake!" And he hauls her off, leaving all of their supplies behind.

I feel mesmerized as I watch the hive of tracker jackers swirl about in confusion and eventually fly away, and then I exhale the breath I didn't realize I was holding.

I knew Katniss would come up with something if I just gave her some time to think.

"How cool was that!" Rue startles me as she jumps down from a branch above me. Weird, I thought she was in a tree closer to Katniss…

"How did you…?" I trail off, pointing toward the tree I thought she was in.

She shrugs and replies, "You work in the orchards your whole life, you learn how to move around the trees."

"More like fly," I scoff, and she smiles.

We then hear something heavy falling through the trees, and then my stomach drops as I see Katniss hit the ground in a lifeless thud.

"Katniss! Oh shit, Katniss!" I shout as I frantically run to her, with Rue right behind me. I drop to the ground at her side and turn her over, and my eyes widen in fear as I see three very distinct tracker jacker stings, all the size of oranges, on Katniss' neck, hand, and knee.

"Get the stingers out of her!" Rue orders, and I dig my fingers into the sting on her neck to push the little black needle out. Along with it comes a heinous-smelling, green pus, and Rue and I have to cover our noses with our shirts in order to work. "Keep going, and check for any more! I'll be right back!" Rue instructs me as she stands and runs off. I do as she asks, and then there's nothing left to do but panic.

"Oh, Katniss, Katniss, just hang on…" I plead softly to her, stroking her hand that doesn't have a sting on it. Tears prick my eyes as I turn her hand over and check for a pulse. It's unsteady, but it's beating, and a check of my hand under her nose shows me she's still breathing as well. "You just got knocked out," I sigh, feeling the need to keep talking to her, "But you'll be okay, I promise…"

She twitches a little, and her eyes flutter open, and my heart wrenches in my chest as the possibility of what could've happened to her washes over me. But she's  _alive_ , and her eyes are open—

"Peeta?" she asks, confused. "Ugh, you're all… shiny."

I'm just about to open my mouth to speak when I hear heavy footsteps trampling over the underbrush, getting closer by the second, and I know that Cato is coming back. Whether it's for Katniss, or for all their supplies, or both, I'm not sure. But I do know that we haven't come this far to have her fall into his hands again.

"Katniss!" I shout, pulling us both up. I shake her shoulders to get her to focus and yell at her, "Listen to me! Run! You have to go! Run that way!"

I point her in the direction that Rue went off to, and she half-runs, half-stumbles through the woods. I'm about to go after her, when a glint catches my eye.

Her bow and arrows!

In the seconds it takes for me to reach for the weapon, Cato comes smashing through the trees, his face swollen from a tracker jacker sting on his forehead.

"You!" he cries, and I take off through the forest as fast as I can go. Cato is a little slower, the sting bulging so much that the vision in his left eye is compromised, but he's still fast. I can't quite comprehend where I'm going, but I know I set off in the direction Rue and Katniss were going, so I have to catch up with them at some point, don't I?

Didn't I go in their direction?

Shit, maybe not! Oh, I am  _so_  fucked!

I break through a tree line and come across a rocky stream full of tangled weeds, and this is where I think I can maybe lose him. He's probably hallucinating by now, so surely he'll trip over the weeds and fall in the water, which will carry him downstream if he doesn't resist it. And if he does, maybe I can push him into the water and drown him.

Gah, did I just think that? What is wrong with me?

I jump from rock to rock, but Cato is proving to be more agile than I expected. He's quickly closing in on me, and so I decide to jump into the stream. I'm just ready to push off when a hand on my shoulder yanks me backward, and I fall onto the rocks.

Cato chuckles and presses his giant foot down on me, and all the air leaves my lungs in a whoosh.

He leans down to my ear and tells me in an eerily calm voice, "I hope the last thing you ever hear,  _Lover Boy_ , is her screams as I fuck her."

Then, in one swift movement, he slashes my leg open with his sword.

I can feel the blood running hot down my calf, and I can hear his terrorizing laughter as he runs back off into the woods, but most of all I feel searing pain as I try to move anywhere. No matter what I do, I can't seem to escape from the agony, and I have a fleeting thought that  _this_  will be how I die.

The thought consumes me as I entangle myself in the weeds, hastily smearing my face and neck with mud to camouflage myself, and then everything goes black.


	19. The Cave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: This chapter contains graphic images and discussion of rape. Proceed with caution.

"Peeta…"

Everything is white. Someone is calling my name. I feel so weak.

"Peeta…"

It's a woman's voice.

No. Not just any woman.

"Where are you…?"

Katniss. Katniss is calling for me.

I try to move, but I feel entombed. Maybe I'm dead.

"Peeta…!"

I heard that civilizations before ours used to believe in an afterlife. Maybe they were right all along…

The white light turns to shadow, and my eyes flutter open to see my beautiful Katniss, standing over me, gazing out into the distance.

She looks so sad.

"Dammit, Peeta! Where are you?" she calls out, scanning the area around us. Her breathing is ragged, and I can see her face is stained with tears.

"Well, don't step on me," I tell her in a voice so hoarse I hardly recognize it.

She looks down, and relief washes over her face.

"Oh! Peeta! Shit, you scared me!" She drops down beside me and uncovers me, wiping the dried mud off my face. She sits me up and crushes me against her, and I can feel her whole body trembling. She pulls me back and looks me over anxiously. "Are you okay?" she asks. "I saw dried blood over there…"

The searing pain rushes back to me as I try to pull the weeds off of my lower half.

"Just…  _ahh…!_ " I hiss as I try to move my sliced leg.

Katniss leans over to get a good look at the cut—or rather, the swollen, oozing, festering flesh masking the cut—and I can tell she's really trying to hold back her true reaction. Disgust, mixed with a healthy dose of fear.

"Pretty bad, huh?" I ask rhetorically.

It's bad. I know it's bad. She doesn't need to try and sugarcoat it for me.

"Nah, you should see some of the people my mother tends to," she says, shaking her head and digging into her pack. "Here, take this," she instructs mechanically, handing me two little pills and a small jug of water. "You're burning up. This will help bring your temperature down. Are you hungry?"

Like a good patient, I swallow the pills. But I have to think about being hungry a moment before I can answer.

"Not really, actually."

"Peeta, you have to eat something. I've been looking for you for two days."

"It's been two days since the tracker jackers?"

"Yeah," she replies, "although the Gamemakers keep fucking with the sunlight, so it's hard to tell if it's  _actually_  been two days. At any rate, you need some food in you."

She shoves some kind of overcooked meat at me, and I almost vomit at the smell.

"No, that will probably just come right back up," I tell her, and she sighs in defeat. She digs around in her pack and pulls out some dried fruit, which doesn't smell or taste too offensive. "Okay," she says with a shaky exhale, "Let's see what can be done for that leg."

She does a pretty good job of putting on a brave face at first, but once she pours water over the wound in an attempt to clean it, her resolve falters.

It may be because of my reaction to it.

"Ah,  _fuck!_  That  _hurts!_ " I cry through clenched teeth as the water sizzles on my skin. I glance down and find the wound looking even worse than it did before, pus seeping out everywhere.

" _Dammit!_ " Katniss growls, throwing the jug of water down angrily. "This is  _all_  my fault!"

I look up to see the hopelessness in her eyes, her true feelings not hidden anymore, and it immediately puts me in protector mode.

I take her hands in mine and tell her, "Katniss, this isn't your fault."

"But I was so  _stupid!_  I went back for a pack of supplies at the Cornucopia before going after Annie.  _Annie_ , not you. And I didn't even find her!"

"You didn't?"

Katniss shakes her head, "No, the Gamemakers, they…" she shifts and shows me a healing burn on her leg. "They set a forest fire."

I suddenly remember Cato's words, how he said 'her leg's all charred.'

"And then those  _fucking_  Careers had to find us," she sobs, "and now you're badly hurt and Rue's gone—"

"Wait, what?" I ask in alarm. "Rue's gone?"

Katniss chokes back another cry, "She found me and helped me with my stings, but then she and I split up, and when I found her…"

She's now shaking almost uncontrollably, and so I pull her in close to try and calm her.

"A boy from District 1,  _Marvel_ —" She spits out his name, repulsed by it. "He had her pinned to the ground, and she was… was screaming. And I tried to get to her, I  _swear!_  But… by the time I reached them, they were already frozen in the force field!" She clutches me even tighter as her grief overcomes her.

I feel almost numb by the news. I try to remember Marvel, from his interview, from watching him interact with the other Careers during the week… The sense I always got from him was that he might not have actually wanted to be reaped on purpose. He was always trying just a little too hard to fit in with the others, and there was a sort of desperation about him…

Desperate enough, it seems, to force himself on sweet Rue.

I don't have any comforting words for Katniss. Nothing I can say will take away the pain she's feeling—that  _I'm_  feeling—over losing our friend and ally. But I can help take away her guilt.

"That wasn't your fault, Katniss," I assure her softly, stroking her back comfortingly. "Don't you blame yourself for what that  _bastard_ did to her." I pull her away and tilt her chin up, so I can see her eyes. "And you didn't do this to me, either. You know as well as I do who's  _really_  responsible for this. For  _all_  of this."

Katniss' eyes widen in realization, and a steely look comes over her face as she nods in understanding. Determined once again, she takes a hard look at my leg before digging around in her pack and pulling out a silver canister and a white cloth.

I recognize the cloth instantly.

"Is that my sleep shirt?" I ask, amused.

"Told you I'd give it back to you," she replies, and for the first time since she's found me, a smile appears on her face. "This is burn medicine. I think it may help with the infection," she explains as she opens the canister, applying some of the cream inside it onto my wound. She then rips the shirt along its seam, making it double in size, and she carefully wraps it around my wound. "There," she says, tying the ends of the sleeves. "It's not going to do much—"

"It's great," I say, leaning over to kiss her cheek.

I pull back and see her blush slightly, and then, overcome by embarrassment, she tells me, "Come on. Let's find some shelter. We're sitting ducks out here."

She helps me to my feet, and for her sake I try not to scream or contort my face as the pain of putting any weight on my leg rips through me. She lets me lean on her as we make our way down the stream, which helps, but not by much.

It isn't long before I feel faint.

"Peeta? Woah, hang on," Katniss says as she lowers me to the ground before I have the chance to collapse onto it myself. She arranges me like a rag doll, putting my head between my knees, and the rubs my back soothingly. "Just breathe," she instructs, and I have to give my entire focus to that one task. Eventually the lightheadedness subsides, and I look up to see her surveying the area around us.

I'm so lucky that she knows what she's doing.

She notices me regarding her, and smiles softly down at me. "Looks like there's a cave we can hide in just over there," she tells me, pointing upward to the other side of the stream. "Think you can make it?"

"I'll have to try," I respond.

She tests the depth of the water, finding where it's most shallow, and then comes back for me. She lifts me up, and again I feel faint for a second, but I remember to breathe and am able to stay vertical as she helps me across the stream and into the cave. She props me up against a wall as she rolls out a sleeping bag, and then stuffs me inside of it.

"Just rest," she says, brushing the hair out of my eyes, and then goes about unpacking the rest of her items. "You'll need to take more of those pills for your temperature soon, and you'll also need to eat something substantial."

"Where did you get all your supplies?" I ask.

She shrugs, "Some was from the pack I grabbed at the Cornucopia, some Glimmer and Cato left behind, some of the food I collected in the forest…" She pulls out the silver canister from her pack. "This was from Haymitch," she tells me quietly. It doesn't take a genius to know what she's thinking.

"I always knew you were his favorite," I reply with a smirk. "Although, I don't suppose the kind of medicine that'll heal me would come in something like that."

"No, you'll need a doctor," Katniss agrees. "A real one."

A chill runs down my spine as she says this, and I can feel in my bones how desperately my body is struggling to hang on. I suddenly feel overcome by sorrow, knowing that Snow and the Gamemakers are probably congratulating each other right now as they watch me suffer.

"Katniss," I call out to her, and she turns to look at me. "I just need you to know… if I don't make it—"

"No, don't you talk like that," she interrupts. "You're going to make it."

"I know, but just in case—"

"No! Peeta, just shut up and get some rest! You're delirious!"

"Just let me tell you!" I beg, pulling my hands out of the sleeping bag and grabbing hers firmly. She looks panicked, and I know that this whole thing is way outside of her comfort zone, but I just  _have_  to tell her. "I need you to know… I love you. I don't think I've ever said the words out loud to you before, but I do. I love you. I always have."

She takes a moment to process everything I've just said, and then leans down and presses her lips softly to mine.

"Even if you've never said it, you've made it pretty clear," she tells me as she takes my face in her hands and kisses me again. "I… love you too, you know. It just… took me longer to realize it."

"I know," I nod in understanding. "But just in case I don't make it—"

Katniss groans, "This again!"

"Just listen! In case I don't make it, just… remember the others you still love. The ones who will still need you…" My mind drifts to her mother and Prim, and then to Haymitch and the other rebels. They'll need her to carry on what we both started.

I move my hand to her belly, to the baby everyone thinks is growing inside her, and I know she can't argue her way out of that one.

She sighs in defeat, and then gets a funny look on her face. "Peeta," she says cautiously, "Do you want to try to… I mean, we could leave the arena right now if we…"

Of course! We can just pair right here and leave!

"Yeah, let's do it," I nod, practically shaking with anxiousness. We'll just have sex right here and now and all of this will be over. We'll be rescued, we'll escape, we'll be safe—

I don't know why I didn't think of it sooner!

Well, I suppose agonizing pain is a good enough excuse.

Katniss unzips the sleeping bag, opening it to leave my body uncovered. She hesitates for a moment, realizing I won't be able to move much, and then unbuckles my belt and undoes my pants.

I'm trying really hard to find this sexy, but I just… It's just not working for some reason.

She tries to stroke me through my boxers, but I remain limp in her hand. And I can tell she's getting frustrated.

"Come on…" she grumbles, and tries kissing me forcefully.

It's no use. I'm too nervous. And still in too much pain, as I discover when she tries to sit on top of me.

"Ow!  _Gah…_ " I wheeze as she presses her weight on my pelvis, and I cover my face to keep her from seeing me in such distress. "Katniss, I'm sorry, I just—It's not gonna happen."

I look up to see her with her arms folded, looking discouraged. With a heavy sigh, she nods and gets off of me, and then helps me to refasten my pants.

"I'm sorry," I whisper to her once again, and I pat the space next to me for her to lie down. After a moment of restlessness, she does lay with me, placing her head on my chest, and I kiss the top of her head. "We'll just have to wait," I tell her.

Wait for me to get better, or wait for me to waste away. One of the two.

But of course, we don't have to wait too long. As if on cue, trumpets blare around the arena, and the voice of Claudius Templesmith rings out loud and clear:

"Attention, tributes. Attention. Commencing at sunrise tomorrow, there will be a feast at the Cornucopia. This will be no ordinary occasion, for each of you needs something desperately, and we plan to be generous hosts. You will find what you need in a backpack marked with your district number. Think hard about refusing to show up. For some of you, this will be your last chance."

I glance at Katniss and I can already see the wheels turning in her head. I wrap my arms around her, squeezing her against my chest, and I tell her, "No. No way. That is a trap to get you to Cato."

"I don't really have a choice here, do I?" she asks as she wriggles out of my grasp. "Claudius said it himself, it's our last chance."

"Then, I'll go with you!" I blurt out.

Katniss rolls her eyes, making her way over to her pack and gathering her supplies. "Peeta, you can barely walk."

"I'll drag myself there!"

"That will just take more time and leave us more vulnerable!" she yells, shoving her pack away in anger. "Look, I'm not about to lose you now. I'm going to do whatever it takes to get you better and to get us out of here."

I sigh in defeat. This is the Katniss I said I admired, isn't it? The one who would risk everything for the people she loves? Except, this risk puts me in danger as well.

I ask her quietly, staring deeply into her dark gray eyes, "But, what if I end up losing you? And…" I place my hand on her stomach, once again playing my trump card.

Before she can admit defeat, we hear the light tinkling of a bell just outside the cave. I instantly become alarmed, wondering what tribute is out there signaling to Cato that they've found us. But Katniss gets excited at the noise, jumping up and hurrying out of the cave.

"What is it?" I call out to her.

"It's from Haymitch," she shouts back to me. She stays silent outside the cave for a long moment, and then comes back in with a smile on her face. "I don't think we'll need the feast after all," she tells me, showing me the little bottle in her hand. "Looks like Haymitch came through with enough sponsors for some medicine himself."

"Really?" I ask in surprise, and Katniss nods at me. I suddenly feel hopeful for the first time in days, and begin to lift my pant leg in order to get to the wound.

"Oh, no!" she stammers, kneeling beside me and pulling my pant leg back down. "You drink it. It cures wounds from the inside out. My mother uses it sometimes."

She holds out the bottle to me and I cautiously take it from her.

"The whole thing?" I ask her, and she nods enthusiastically.

I tip the bottle back and swallow the liquid in four big gulps. It tastes sickeningly sweet; almost like the sleep syrup Mother made me drink the time I broke my arm by falling on a slick patch of ice. Same consistency as the syrup too…

Oh shit, it  _is_  sleep syrup!

I try to gag the stuff back up, knowing that the amount I took will put me under for quite a while, giving Katniss more than enough time to get to the feast. But she pins me to the ground and covers my mouth and nose, forcing me to keep it down. Almost instantly, I feel the effects of the wretched syrup, my eyes drooping and my body feeling limp.

As I teeter in the limbo between asleep and awake, I feel a hand on my cheek and the voice of my Katniss telling me softly, "Peeta, I promise, me and our little mockingjay will make it back to you."

Everything fades into blackness for a long time. And then, fragments of images flick across my mind's eye. Running through the forest. Cato poised and ready to strike in front of the Cornucopia. Katniss' sister, Primrose, with tears in her eyes. Burned bread lying on the ground in the rain. Children playing in the meadow on the outskirts of District 12. President Snow's evil smile, with blood trickling out from the corners.

And then, the images swirl together and disappear, and suddenly, I am awake.

I open my eyes and stare up at the dark ceiling of the cave. I take a breath as if it's the first time I've filled my lungs in ages, and I immediately notice something warm on the right side of my body.

I look and exhale heavily in relief as my eyes focus on Katniss' sleeping form, curled up next to me. My arms instinctively encircle hers, and she stirs when she feels my hands on her.

"Hi," she says groggily.

"You—you made it," I stammer.

"I told you I would." She smiles sleepily and glances down at my leg, and I sit up to do the same. I gasp when I see it.

There's no swelling, no pus, no red flesh—just a scabbing line running down the leg. I try to move it, but it feels stiff, like it'll tear open if I move it any further.

"Did you see Cato?" I ask, now checking over her body for injuries. She's missing a boot, but everything else appears to be in order.

"I did, in the end. But I went in prepared. I caught him up in a snare."

My eyes widen in shock. "How did you make a snare that large?"

"Well…" she smirks, "I did get some help from Glimmer. We tied our two coils of rope together."

"Wow," I say, the only thing that comes to mind in response.

She sighs and shakes her head, "Hey, if she wants to deal with him, let her. But for being a Career, she's not too bad. She can at least negotiate. Oh! And your friend, Thresh, he found that girl he was after from District 2 at the Cornucopia. Pretty sure I saw that firework go up awfully quickly."

I smile to myself, thinking of how happy Thresh must be. And then I smile even wider, considering how despite everything we've been through, the woman I love is in my arms.

Only one thing left to do.

Gently, I trace my fingers along Katniss' jawline, tilting her chin up and placing a soft kiss on her lips. She seems to melt into me as our kiss deepens and her tongue invades my mouth, dancing around mine. I grip her tighter and roll her on top of me, and I let out a low moan as she presses into my erection.

"We have to be quick," she says, sitting up and undoing both her pants and mine.

"I don't think that'll be a problem," I reply. It's been far too long since I've had a release, and I can already feel the pressure mounting, ready to blow.

Katniss carefully puts her weight on me, easing my length inside of her, and I squeeze my eyes shut at the feel of her wet walls encircling my now throbbing cock.

No, this really won't take long at all.

She puts her hands on either side of my head for leverage, and leans far down so we're flush against each other. And then, she rolls her pelvis toward me, and we moan together in pleasure.

"Oh,  _gah_ , that's so  _gooood!_ "

" _Ugh_ , fuuuck…!"

She rolls her hips into me again, and her lips come crashing down onto mine urgently. I wrap my hands around her and push her down into me, hard, and she counters by leaving a trail of wet kisses down my jawline and sucking on my earlobe. We pick up speed as I feel myself on the edge, and then Katniss pulls away from me and looks deep into my eyes, her rhythm faltering as I feel her walls contracting around me.

"Ugh,  _Peeta_ —" she pants, "Give it to me,  _please_ —!"

As soon as the request leaves her mouth, I oblige, pushing my load deep inside her with every frantic thrust.

I'm barely soft again before we hear our firework boom above us, and then the entire cave begins to shake. Katniss gets off of me quickly, clamoring for her pants, and I pull my own up as the ceiling of the cave is hoisted out of the way and we are exposed to the rest of the arena. She ducks down next to me, throwing her arms around me as the force field grabs hold of us and lifts us out of the arena.

Fear grips me as I wonder what awaits us up in the hovercraft above us. Did we wait too long? Were the rebels' plans destroyed when we didn't pair bond quickly enough?

I look out at my bird's eye view of the arena, and I see our photos illuminated in the sky. And then, one by one, firework after firework goes off around different points in the arena, and the photos in the sky change. Three more couples all paired within minutes of each other, and I know they have to all be rebels.

Well, at least we'll all go down together, if we have to.

Just as we are about to reach the hovercraft, I notice several more force field rays shooting out from its underbelly to the various points where I saw the fireworks come from, capturing the newly paired tributes. And then, we ascend inside and are deposited onto the cool, metal floor.

"Well, it's about fucking time," a familiar voice greets us. "What  _exactly_  were my final instructions to you two before you left for the arena?"

We glance in the direction of the voice and find Haymitch glaring at us, drink in hand.

"Sorry, Haymitch," Katniss starts, "we just—"

"No need to explain, I saw it all," he interrupts her. "But you should've left the lookin' after Annie to us. Now, out of the way, the rest are comin' up."

I try to scoot out of the way, but a stabbing pain rips through my leg when I try to push off with it. I look down and find the wound reopened, blood slowly trickling out of the tear.

"Ah, fuck—" Haymitch curses, and hits an intercom button on the wall of the hovercraft. "We need a medic down here for the boy's leg!" he shouts into the speaker.

Almost instantly, a team in white suits armed with a stretcher burst through the double doors. They stop right in front of me and gingerly lift me onto the stretcher. Katniss rises with them and grabs my hand.

"Where are you taking him?" she asks in a panic.

"His wound is most likely still infected," one of the medics explains to her. "We need to examine it."

They start to move and Katniss runs along side them, never letting go of my hand. "I'm coming too!" she tells them.

"Miss, you need to be examined yourself," another medic tells her, and pulls her hand away from mine. "You suffered some nasty burns, and you'll need the tracker out of your arm as well."

"Peeta!" she screams as the rush me away, and I turn my head just in time to see Haymitch jerk her backward.

He holds her shoulders firmly as she struggles to break free. "It's all right. He'll be all right," he tells her softly.

I turn forward as we go through the double doors into a large hallway, and I'm wheeled to a small room off the main corridor. There are other medics in white waiting for me inside.

They move me from the stretcher to a padded table, and a man holding a plastic mask leans over me.

"All right, Peeta, just count backwards from one hundred for me, will you?" the man asks, placing the mask on my face.

"One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven, ninety-sss…"


	20. The Bombs

The first thing I see when I open my eyes is the forest outside District 12. I stare absentmindedly off into the distance at the pine trees, the rolling hillside, the faraway mountains, the coal-clouded sky…

It's not real though. It's my rendering of it. It's the painting I created during our skills training for the Games, and now it's back, hanging on the wall opposite of where I lay in bed.

"Hmph. These walls needed some color," a gruff voice says. I turn my head and find Haymitch in the bed next to me. He's in a hospital gown, and is also staring at the painting. He notices me, and his eyes brighten. "Well look who's finally up," he teases.

"Where are we? How long have I been out?" I ask groggily.

"You've been out a few days," Haymitch replies. "And we're in District 13."

"We're  _where_?" I ask, sitting up. And that's when I notice it. I make a soft gasp, leaning over to feel the foot of the bed and working my way up until I can feel my thigh. "My… my left leg… It's…"

"It was badly infected, kid," Haymitch tells me solemnly. "Cato had cut it down to the bone, and even the medicine from the feast was only a temporary fix. It probably could've been saved if you had been able to get medical attention sooner, but…"

He doesn't need to finish the sentence. I understand what he's getting at. My leg is just another casualty of the Games.

A minor one, considering what I managed to escape with…

"Where's Katniss?" I ask, and Haymitch chuckles.

"I'm surprised that wasn't the first question out of your mouth. She's been worried sick, although don't even try and call her out on it, cause she'll bite your head off." He scoffs then, and tells me, "Figures you'd wake up when she's not here. Despite my efforts to try and bug the hell outta her, she's barely left your bedside. Mags had to practically drag her away to lunch a little while ago."

"Mags? So, Mags and Chaff made it out too?"

"We got them all. Beetee and Wiress, Dalton and Bonnie, and Annie too. She and Finnick are in the recovery room next door."

My mind spins with this new information. Bonnie, from 8? And who's Dalton? Why are Annie and Finnick recovering?

Wait, why is Haymitch in here recovering? He was fine last time I saw him…

He notices the confusion plain on my face and holds up his hands. "All right, kid. Let me explain everything. Our rebel spy was a Gamemaker named Plutarch Havensbee. He was the one who was able to free Finnick. And him, myself, and the other mentors and Capitol rebels hijacked the hovercraft that takes newly paired couples out of the arena. We really ended up cutting it close too—the plan was put into action after you woke up from being knocked out with that sleep syrup."

"Yeah, don't think you're getting off easy for that one," I scowl at him mockingly.

Haymitch chuckles, "Fair enough. Anyway, we were able to rescue all the rebel tributes—the ones who had given the signal to Plutarch in their private sessions with the Gamemakers—and we were all brought here, to District 13."

"But, how did you get injured?"

"What? Injured?" he asks, confused, then he reminds himself of his surroundings and laughs loudly. "Oh! Ha! Well, kid, it was… an  _old_ injury. A product of the Games, if you will. But the docs here in 13 were able to do some… reconstructive surgery. That's what I'm recovering from."

Yikes. That's not a visual I needed. Sorry I even asked.

A part of me jealously wonders how they're able to give him…  _that_ , but they can't give me a new leg.

Haymitch continues, "In fact, I'm pretty sure you're the only one in the whole recovery ward right now whose crotch wasn't operated on."

"All right, Haymitch, geez!" I groan, rubbing my eyes to try and wipe the image from my mind. "So, um… who else did you say was rescued?"

"Mags and Chaff, Wiress and Beetee, Bonnie and Dalton—"

"That's Bonnie, from 8? Twill's friend? She's a rebel?"

Haymitch sighs irately, "Yes. She paired with Dalton, from 10. Look, I know they weren't exactly part of your little clique during the Games, but both their mentors are rebels too. And they  _still_  went along with that idiotic plan of waiting for you two to pair before they did, even though they managed to find each other  _right away_  in the arena—"

"Hey!" a shout comes from the doorway, and I turn to see a tired but stern-looking Katniss glaring at Haymitch. "I apologized, Haymitch. Let it go."

She turns to me and immediately her eyes soften and become glassy with tears. She rushes to my bedside, taking me up in a tight embrace. She doesn't say anything, but she doesn't need to.

"Yeah, just as I suspected," I say softly in her ear as I hold her close, "you're definitely worth all the trouble."

She lets out a shuddering laugh at me, and buries her face in the crook of my neck. It feels so good to have her in my arms, to know for sure that we both made it out of the arena. To know that we're safe now… in what is apparently District 13?

"So what did I miss while I was out?" I ask, pulling her back so I can look into her eyes. I take my thumb and brush away a few stray tears.

"Well, for starters, being underground sucks," she sighs exasperatedly.

"We're underground?"

Katniss nods her head affirmatively. "There's no natural light, everything is gray, we can't go outside, and they print these stupid schedules on our arms—" She sticks out her arm and shows me writing in purple ink.

After _12:00—Lunch_ , it says  _12:30—Kitchen Duties_.

"Now why would they expect  _you_  to follow that?" I laugh, shaking my head.

"I know!" Katniss agrees, and begins to laugh along with me. She wraps her arms around me and puts her head on my chest. "I'm glad you're finally up," she whispers. "At least that's one weight off my shoulders."

I hold her closer and rub circles on her back. "What else have you got on your shoulders?" I ask.

"Ahem," someone clears their throat, and I turn to see a woman with straight, gray hair and a cold expression in the doorway to our room. "Mr. Mellark, it's good to see you awake," she says in a monotone. "I am President Alma Coin. Consider this your official welcome to District 13. I should inform you that as soon as you are fully rehabilitated, you are expected to earn your keep around here. Perhaps you will be able to convince your partner to do the same."

Partner?

"She means me," Katniss says, rolling her eyes.

Did I just ask that out loud?

"I should've known I'd find you in here, Miss Everdeen," President Coin addresses Katniss. "Shirking your kitchen duties again today?"

Katniss huffs in response, "Dr. Aurellius said I was in too much distress to work—"

"There is no official documentation of such a condition," Coin retorts. "Well at any rate, you should feel more at ease now. Your partner is conscious again, and the rescue mission to District 12 was successful. The Public Health team is inspecting the evacuees as we speak."

"My mother, and Prim—"

"They are accounted for," Coin says, nodding her head. "However, the mission did encounter an unforeseen complication. As the essential personnel were escaping, bombs were dropped on the district."

All three of us—Haymitch too—gasp in unison.

"What are you saying, Coin?" Haymitch asks her.

"District 12 is all but obliterated. The soldiers on the mission acted with compassion, trying to round up as many people as possible to evacuate. But they were only able to bring roughly 800-900 refugees to 13, a little less than 10% of the total district population."

She is quiet for a beat, and then adds almost as an afterthought:

"My condolences to you all."

And then, as if those few words of sympathy take away all the pain and worry she's just inflicted on us, Coin turns on her heel and leaves the room. We all sit in silence for an indefinite amount of time, pondering the people we had left behind in 12. I think of my family, of Delly and Roman, and my other friends from school. I glance over at Katniss and find her deep in thought as well, and I reach over and squeeze her hand comfortingly. She smiles up at me, silently agreeing that, yes, at least we have each other.

"Katniss," I say softly, "why am I your partner?"

Disgusted, Katniss rolls her eyes again. "We're not allowed to use 'gender-biased' terms," she tells me, making air quotes. "The term 'partner' is uniform."

"Yeah, plus Coin's a big dyke," Haymitch cuts in. "Her 'partner,' Paylor, is her Secretary of Defense."

"Thanks, Haymitch," Katniss says sarcastically, and then turns back to me. "I just think it's stupid to require using one word over another. I mean—partner, husband, wife—what's the difference?"

My eyes fall to our hands, still linked together. "I noticed she still called you 'miss,'" I remark, asking her a silent question.

"Oh, um…" Katniss stammers. "I just… They wanted me to make a decision all by myself, and to sign all these papers using your last name, and they wanted to know if we wanted a compartment together, and you weren't awake, and I just—"

"Hey, shh, shh…" I hush her, giving her hand a squeeze. "It's okay. We can talk about what we want to do later."

Katniss smiles. "Thanks."

There's a knock at our door, followed by a male voice, "Hey, uh, they said you'd be down here."

"Ugh, all these visitors!" Haymitch cries. "Can't a guy have peace and quiet around here? Or a drink?" He grabs the curtain to separate the room and pulls it across, cutting himself off from us.

Meanwhile, my stomach is churning with the sight of the man at the door.

Katniss gasps silently, "Gale? Is that really you?"

"Hey Catnip," he laughs, and she rushes over to him and jumps into his arms. He spins her around and she giggles in excitement, and I need to look away from the spectacle.

"How are you here?" she asks in disbelief, staring slack-jawed at him.

I can feel the jealously bubbling up inside me. If he thinks he's just going to swoop in here and steal the woman I fought so hard for, he's got another thing coming.

"We escaped from District 2," he tells her. "It was so wild, Catnip. You would've loved it! We went through the plains and the farmlands, and up through the mountains—it was amazing. And then we finally made it to 12 and we were at your house with your mother and sister, and then all these soldiers show up out of nowhere and tell us they're from District 13 and they've come to rescue us. And then almost immediately after, the first bomb drops. It was madness, but luckily I still knew those woods like the back of my hand. I practically led the soldiers out of there!"

Stupid show-off with his stupid saving people. I lost a leg!

"Wait, who's we?" Katniss asks.

"Me and Slater, of course. And—"

"Daaaaaa!" a toddler with brown hair and gray eyes screams, slamming into Gale's legs and wrapping his arms around them. Gale laughs and lifts the boy in the air, and he giggles uncontrollably.

Katniss looks stunned.

"This is Tank," Gale says, tickling the boy's tummy.

"Gale, he—he's a little version of you!" Katniss exclaims.

"Yeah, the resemblance is crazy," Gale agrees. "Tank, this is your Auntie Katniss. Say hi."

Tank buries his face in Gale's shoulder, and Gale chuckles.

"Come on, bud," he coaxes his son, "you're usually not that shy."

"Well, he has been through a lot in the past week," a petite woman with caramel-colored hair says, putting an arm around Gale's waist. "You found daddy!" she squeals at the boy, and he laughs at her in response.

"Slater," Katniss says. "Of course, I remember you from your Games. It's so nice to meet you. You have such an adorable little boy." She gazes at the happy family with a wide smile and stars in her eyes, and I can't help but think maybe I jumped the gun at the whole being jealous thing. She just seems genuinely happy for them.

"Sure, he's adorable now," Gale laughs, "but just wait till he's wailing at 2am."

Slater returns Katniss' friendly smile. "I can't believe I finally get to meet the infamous Katniss Everdeen in person. You're all Gale ever talks about, and once I saw you on TV I could understand why." She glances over at me and her smile grows. "And this is the lucky guy who gets to call you his wife—"

"Partner," Katniss corrects her with an eye roll.

"What?"

"Never mind."

Tank starts to get restless in Gale's arms and Gale sets him on the floor, but then he takes off running down the hallway, giggling up a storm.

"Aw, shit!" Gale groans, and Slater hits him in the arm. "Sorry,  _shoot_. I'll go get him."

"Let him run around, he's been carried on my back everywhere for a week. Just go follow him," Slater says, shooing Gale away.

"I'll come too," Katniss offers. "You have no idea where you're going around here."

Gale scoffs, "Found you all right, didn't I?"

"Hmm, yeah, wonder how long that took ya," Katniss teases as they start out the door. Abruptly, she turns back, rushing over to me and giving me a peck on the cheek. "I'll be back in a bit."

"Okay. Don't worry about me, I'm not going anywhere," I reply, gesturing to where my leg should be.

Katniss smiles softly and heads out the door, leaving me with Slater.

"They really are a pair, aren't they?" she comments, sitting in a chair near my bed.

"Yeah…" I reply, not exactly sure what they're a pair of. A part of me still does feel jealous. They get along so easily, and are so comfortable with one another. They fell so easily back into step, and it makes me feel like all the work I've put in doesn't mean a thing.

Slater sighs, "You know, I was jealous of what they have too, in the beginning."

"Yeah?" I say, surprised at how easily she can read me.

"Oh yeah," she laughs. "I was instantly smitten with Gale the first time I saw him. It was while we were waiting backstage before the opening ceremonies. And he ended up being interested in me too, but I felt like every time he tried to tell me about himself, Katniss Everdeen would inevitably come up. I yelled at him once during training—he said I'd never have her aim with a bow and arrow."

"Ouch," I chuckle.

Slater laughs along with me, "Well it was true, I couldn't shoot that thing if my life depended on it. But I figured out that what they share doesn't take away from what he and I share. And that the feelings they have for one another aren't romantic. I mean, Gale told me that a long time ago he thought that's what they were, but now he brushes it off as a silly teenage crush."

"Thanks," I tell her. "That helps."

"I'm glad," she smiles back at me. "And anyway, it was so clear from watching the Games that she loves you. There's no question."

I nod, remembering Glimmer's words. "I'd heard that about you two as well. Although some people thought your pairing was just… for the social value."

"What! Gah, no!" she protests. "Far from it."

"But, uh, Cato had said…"

Slater scoffs, "Ugh,  _that_  guy? The one who did  _that_  to you?" Se gestures to my missing leg. "You're going to believe  _him_?"

"He… told Katniss that he knew you," I shrug.

"Well, sure, but not personally. I mean, his sister, Calpurnia, she was my age. Gah, her and her friends were  _always_  torturing me in school. They thought they were better than me because… Well, my parents were in the Games—my mother from 2, my father from 10—and bringing home someone from an outlying district was looked down upon back then, so my family didn't fit in at all."

Slater falls silent for a moment, and then smiles sadly.

"My father taught us that there were more important things than Capitol fads or social status, and always told us to be thankful for what we had, because he grew up with so much less. But that's not really how anyone else in 2 was raised, and so we were… shunned, really. I hated my childhood, and wasn't even Reaped by choice like the other Careers. But then I found Gale, and I found that he shared those same values my father had taught me, and I knew he was the one for me."

Slater and I exchange a small smile, and I can't help but feel camaraderie with her. Even the merchant families in 12 still learned the values of being grateful for what we have and knowing there's more to life than material things. It was how everyone in 12 lived.

"Of course, Gale was a crowd favorite during our Games, and was instantly placed on a pedestal when we got back to 2. And when I got pregnant, even Calpurnia and all those bitches from school started to fawn over me. I didn't want to raise Tank in that kind of environment, but what could we do? That's where we had been assigned to live… until your interview changed everything."

"It did?" I ask.

"Oh yeah. Suddenly, even people in 2 were speaking out against the Capitol, and things became chaotic and… and dangerous. That's when I really knew we had to leave. And so Gale suggested we escape to 12." She shakes her head in disbelief and tells me, "I don't know what we would've done if we had gotten there after the bombs dropped. I don't even want to think about it."

Tank comes running back into the room and scrambles up onto Slater's lap, and she laughs and hugs him tightly.

"Did you have fun running around, sweetie?" she asks as she nuzzles him close.

Gale and Katniss enter the room shortly after, and Katniss comes right over to my bed and practically climbs in with me. She rests her head against my shoulder and interlocks her fingers with mine, and for a moment I feel overwhelming gratitude that things worked out the way they did. That even though the Games are a device meant to control us, we were all still able to find real, meaningful love.

We learn later who managed to survive the bombing and make it to 13. Katniss' mother and sister, of course, made it—the mission was to rescue her family and mine, and the soldiers happened to come upon the Seam first, and so they were found right away, with Gale and his family. They even managed to save Prim's cat, Buttercup.

Of my family, only Phyl and his wife survived the bombing, and both of them are still shaken up by it. He doesn't joke as much as he used to, and there's a sort of dimness to his eyes now. The bombing has affected everyone in that way. When something so life-altering like that happens—when loved ones are killed and homes are destroyed and you have to rebuild your whole life—no one is ever the same afterward.

Not having witnessed the damage firsthand, it's hard to wrap my mind around the fact that they're gone. My gentle, kindhearted father, Rye and his wife, their two little ones who'd barely begun their lives, and even my mother, as cold as she was—I loved all of them, and they're all gone.

Sometimes I look at the locket they gave me before I left for the Games and feel a small amount of respite from the grief, that at least I'm able to keep a part of them with me.

Delly and Roman managed to survive, and they fit right in with our gang of rebel tributes. But I know it hurts Katniss to think of Madge and her husband, Brock, who did not survive. She now looks at her mockingjay pin the same way I see my locket, as a reminder of the loved ones we lost.

Coin, of course, tries to distort the meaning of their deaths when she and the other leaders of the rebellion ask us to be the symbols of the revolution:

"They've tried to take everything away from you—your freedom, your wellbeing, your families—and now you need to show them that nothing will stand in your way. Your defiance was the spark the rebellion was waiting for, and you need to keep that fire burning."

Katniss remains silent as we sit in Command, the large war council room filled with beeping monitors and electronic maps. She doesn't trust Coin, and I don't blame her. The woman appears… power-hungry. It's unnerving.

"What… what would we have to do, exactly?" I ask, knowing that we're taking refuge in Coin's district, and she could easily hand us over to Snow if we don't cooperate.

It eats me up inside that we're still pawns in a Game, but now we're at least pawns for values that I can stand behind.

Paylor, who is by no means soft but is clearly the more thoughtful one in their relationship, explains: "Beetee believes he's found a way to take over the Capitol's newsfeed, so that we rebels can broadcast our own messages to the rest of Panem. We want your faces on our broadcast. Plutarch has some ideas…"

"Yes," Plutarch joins in. "Starting with a visit to your district."

"The one that's… not there anymore?" I ask. An involuntary shiver runs down my spine.

"Precisely," Coin answers, possibly showing a hint of a smirk. "It will be a powerful message to show the country—the mockingjays return home only to find it destroyed, and vow to seek vengeance on the ones who destroyed it."

Katniss looks up at them in anger. "The  _mockingjays_?" she questions.

"Oh yes, that's become the rebels' symbol," Plutarch explains. "Many took notice of your references to it in your interview, and in the arena. It's fitting, given the nature of their existence… and yours. Our aim is to enhance the image, showing the nation a family of young mockingjays struggling to fly free from the Capitol's cages."

"How fucking  _romantic_ ," Katniss scoffs, folding her arms over her chest. "People are suffering and dying out there, you know—"

"Yes, and that's why they need something to believe in," Paylor reasons. "They already believe in the love you two share, and we want to help them keep their hope alive."

Katniss remains quiet, but shakes her head back and forth slightly, her expression turned downward.

Coin interprets this as a refusal of their request.

"Miss Everdeen, may I remind you that our soldiers put their lives on the line to save, not only your family, but also hundreds of citizens from your district. We have done you a great kindness, and you are therefore in our debt."

And that does it for Katniss. I can see it in her eyes. She's going to go along with their plans, not because she wants to, but because she is a person who pays back her debts.

"Fine," she mutters, and then the rebel leaders turn to me.

I take Katniss' hand in mine and tell them, "All right, we'll be your mockingjays. But I disagree with you when you say we're in your debt. From what I've seen, District 13 has benefited greatly from the increase in both population and support that the refugees of 12 brought with them, and I believe that itself repays the debt."

Katniss squeezes my hand, and I glance over at her and find the determination restored in her eyes.

I continue, "And so since it would be us doing you the favor, I think we should be allowed to name some terms of our service."

Coin narrows her eyes at us, and I can tell she's seething with anger underneath her stoic exterior. But her expression softens when Paylor places a gentle hand on her arm.

"Alma," Paylor addresses her by her first name and gives her a look that I can't quite interpret, "Let them think it over."

Coin sighs and turns away from us, walking over to a large map of Panem that shows in real time which districts have sided with the rebels. Currently only half the districts have completely rebelled.

A beat passes, and then we hear Coin say, "You have 24 hours, mockingjays. Your demands had better be good ones."


	21. The Mockingjays

"Okay, so what are our conditions?" I ask Katniss as we lay in her small bed in her single compartment. She snuck me out of the recovery ward and took me to her tiny, cramped living quarters for the night—she said she just needed to be close to me again without feeling like medical personnel or rebel officers were watching us, and frankly, I had been feeling the same way. It's nice to know we have a space all to ourselves for a night, however confined it may be.

Katniss ponders my question as she practically lies on top of me—like I mentioned, it's a small bed—and then says the answer into my chest.

"I want to go hunting with Gale again."

I  _really_  try to hide my sourpuss face—even though I know I shouldn't be jealous, I haven't been able to completely squash those feelings yet. But it's natural for her to want to spend time with her friend who she hasn't seen in two years, and for them to do an activity that they bonded over through the years. And, I trust her. I really do. After everything we've been through, I can't  _not_  trust her.

"Okay," I reply, nodding my head. "They do let people outside for exercise, so we could probably negotiate for that. And you could give your kills to the kitchen to use in their meals."

"Finally, we'd get some decent food in this place," Katniss chuckles, and I laugh along with her. The food here is really flavorless and awful.

I glance down at her, thinking of the thing that's been on my mind for the past week or so, and tell her, "I have one. Um… obviously I'm getting close to being discharged from recovery, and I want to move into a partnered compartment with you."

The doctors in District 13 have equipped me with a prosthetic leg, and it's an understatement to say that it's been a hard thing to get used to. The prosthetic, of course, doesn't move as freely as a real leg does, and so I've had to train myself to compensate for the lack of range in its motion. I walk a little stiffer, I can't do things easily like crouch or stand on my toes and no matter how I move, I can always hear the small springs and hinges inside the prosthetic. But Katniss has devoted every day to my recovery, cheering me on when I finally learned to balance and comforting me when just trying to move was a challenge.

We've been in District 13 for a few weeks now, and I'm finally getting the hang of moving around normally, which is why Coin and the other rebel leaders approached us about being the mockingjays earlier today—it will be a way for Katniss and I to 'earn our keep' here in 13, now that we're both 'fully functional.'

"But, those compartments are for people who are really married," Katniss protests. "Annie and Finnick don't even have one yet."

Of course she would bring them up. Finnick just made a big display of proposing to Annie, and they're now trying to throw together a budgeted, District 13 wedding. Plutarch jumped all over this idea, and is going to use their relationship in one of his propos as well.

They even asked me to make a cake for the celebration.

"Well," I say shakily, "we could be like Annie and Finnick. Have a wedding, make everything official…"

Katniss' face contorts into a grimace, and I try not to hide the pain of her rejection. I know she 's opposed to the idea of marriage, and always has been, and so while it hurts, it's not surprising.

"But, then it would be  _our_  wedding being broadcast all over Panem," she argues. "It wouldn't be about us anymore, it would be another tool used in the rebellion…" She stays silent for a moment, picking at a thread on my sleep shirt, and then tells me, "I liked the idea you talked about in your interview with Caesar Flickerman. A private toasting, maybe done off in the woods somewhere with only the two of us around… It would be so much more meaningful if we did it for no one else but ourselves. No ulterior motives, just to show our commitment to each other."

I'm almost taken aback by her words. Here I thought she would be opposed to the idea of getting married all together, but it turns out she just wants something intimate and special.

She looks up at me, a concerned expression on her face. She must be worried that I'll insist on getting married sooner.

"I like the idea of that too," I tell her, placing a small kiss on her lips. "So, we'll wait until the war is over, and then have a toasting out in the woods, just the two of us. But I still want a partnered compartment with you, or at least a bigger bed… Maybe we can negotiate for one even though we're not officially married."

"We can try," Katniss replies, smiling up at me. Then her expression turns pensive. "Peeta, what about after the war? Will we still have to be their mockingjays?"

Fear floods my body at the thought. I can just imagine camera crews showing up at our door every day, wanting to film us and broadcast our private lives to the nation. We'd continue to be pieces in a game, only then it would be a game to convince everyone how  _wonderful_  our lives are after the success of the rebellion. We'd always have to have smiles on our faces and talk endlessly about how grateful we are to Coin for giving us our freedom, when in reality we would just have been moved from one cage to another.

"No," I tell her, shaking my head and pulling her closer to me. "We can't let that happen. After the war, I just want to settle down and live my life with you, without anyone forcing me to act a certain way for a propo."

"Good. I want that too," Katniss says, repositioning herself so she's sitting on top of me. She gives me a wicked smile and grinds her hips on me, and I pull her down, crashing her mouth into mine. Wordlessly, layers of clothing are shed in between wet, passionate kisses, and we both let out quiet groans as I sheath myself inside of her. Neither of us is quite sure how thick the walls of the compartment are, and so we try not to make too much noise as Katniss moves steadily on top of me.

It's fun to see her try and restrain herself—she ends up having to bury her face in the crook of my neck and mumble softly to me how good it feels when we fuck. I make a love bite on her shoulder in response, and she counters by reaching a hand down and fondling my sack. I quietly whimper to her that I'm close, and so she moves one of my hands down to her clit in a silent request to push her over the edge as well.

Neither of us is very quiet as we reach our climax together.

We present our terms to the rebel leaders the next day, and while Coin does eventually concede to the hunting and partnered compartment, she gives us more difficulty with our demand of privacy after the war is over.

Plutarch is beside himself.

"But you're the faces of the rebellion!" he cries. "If you're never heard from again after the war is over, how will people be reassured that it was worth all the fighting?"

I try to reason with him, "They'll be reassured by the fact that they won't have to pair bond with someone when they're 18. They won't need to produce their first child by 22, or be held to a quota of three children in their lifetime. There won't be any Mating Games, or other government intrusions on people's private lives. Contraception will not be outlawed. President Coin, others like you and Secretary Paylor will be able to pair if they want to. People will see the effects of the rebellion as they live each day freely, they won't need to see it from us."

Coin and Paylor exchange a glance, and then Coin responds, "No. I agree with Plutarch. The mockingjays are too famous now. There will be no way for you to fade into obscurity—"

"What if—" Paylor interrupts her, and they glance again at each other, communicating silently. Paylor continues, "What if we agreed on scheduled propos to tape and air, like on the anniversaries of the war being over, or when you reach milestones as a couple. That way the nation would still be able to share in your triumphs, but you would never have a camera crew unexpectedly showing up at your door."

"That might work…" I say hesitantly, looking over at Katniss. She doesn't look happy, but she doesn't exactly have that seething-with-rage look on her face either. "Katniss?" I ask her, and she sighs.

"Yeah, I guess that's okay," she concedes. "But, just on the anniversaries of the war, and not even every anniversary. Just the big ones—first, fifth, tenth, twenty-fifth, fiftieth… if we even live that long. But the milestones in our lives are our own; I don't want anything broadcast when we eventually marry and have children."

Plutarch looks confused. "Eventually?" he asks. "But… you're not pregnant now?"

Katniss shakes her head, "No. We… pretended, to gain supporters in the Games."

"Oh my…" Plutarch contemplates this and finally tells us, "Well, we will have to address that in a propo. We can say the child was lost… yes, it's not uncommon for that to happen—but first, I want a propo of you both in District 12. I'll assemble the crew and you'll leave in a matter of hours."

Plutarch's assistant, Fulvia Cardew, finishes writing the terms of our agreement, and after looking it over thoroughly, we all sign the document.

Before we know it, Katniss and I are prepped for the cameras and taking off in a hovercraft, on our way to what remains of District 12. We land on what I imagine used to be the town square—there is quite a large pile of rubble out the window to my right, and I assume that pile of rubble was once the Justice Building.

The smell of burning—burning wood, burning bodies, burning everything—assaults my senses as I step out of the hovercraft, and I have to cover my nose with my shirt for some relief.

The smell affects Katniss more than me—she turns green immediately after exiting the hovercraft, and barely takes a few steps before vomiting right onto the ground. Luckily the camera crew isn't filming yet.

"Katniss? You okay?" I ask, rushing to her side and placing my hands on her back.

She remains crouched for a moment, spitting and clearing her throat, and then slowly stands back up. "Yeah," she croaks, "I'm okay."

The color hasn't quite returned to her face yet, but after again swearing that she's all right, we make our way through the remains of the town square and through the merchant quarters, the camera crew filming our every move. It's a struggle to see all the destruction firsthand—I try to point out where I think different landmarks used to be, and avert my eyes whenever I see a decomposing limb sticking out of the debris.

We finally arrive at the wreckage that I know used to be the Mellark bakery. Memories come flooding back to me as I stand in front of the crumbling remains of the building—my father teaching me all his family recipes, my brothers and I covered in flour after a hard day's work, and even my mother watching carefully as she allows me to count the money in the register for the first time—and the grief hits me stronger than it ever has before.

I fall onto the ground and place my hands on the scattered bricks, needing to feel them to know that what I'm seeing is real. I can feel fat, wet tears streaming down my cheeks, and notice my hands begin to tremble over the bricks.

"This… was the Mellark bakery… where Peeta grew up," I hear Katniss tell the camera crew behind me. "I knew his father, one of the kindest merchants in the district… I believe Peeta inherited his compassion from him." She pauses for a moment, and then tells them, "I remember sitting right over there in the rain, starving and looking through their garbage cans for something,  _anything_  to eat. My father had just died, and our family was…  _really_  struggling. And then Peeta came out here and gave me two loaves of bread. We barely knew each other back then, and I always wondered why he didn't ask for anything in return… Now I know, that's just who he is, same as his father was." Her voice cracks at the end of her sentence, and a beat passes as she composes herself. "I took the bread home to my family, and it was enough to sustain us until we could provide for ourselves again. He… he saved our lives that day."

I smile at her retelling of the story, choosing wisely to leave out the more dubious parts of the tale—that my mother had screamed at Katniss to get away from our garbage cans, that I had burned the bread purposefully to give it to her, that Mother had beaten me for it, and that Katniss eventually learned to provide for her family by hunting outside the district fence. They weren't necessary for what the propo was trying to accomplish, and were better left unsaid.

I feel her hands on my shoulders, and she slowly helps me up off the ground. I envelop her in a tight embrace, resting my head on her shoulder, and she rubs my back comfortingly. For a small moment, I'm able to forget the cameras on us and allow myself to get lost in her arms, feeling the rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. It soothes me, helping the grief to dissolve slowly into acceptance.

I take one last look at the remains of the bakery, and then we silently move on.

It's hard to tell where the merchant quarters merges with the Seam, everything now covered in soot. But Katniss recognizes some landmarks that help keep us on a path—the Hob, the entrance to the mines, and finally, her home. Compared to mine, hers looks as if it were simply blown over by a gust of wind. The pieces of her home are less fragmented, and she actually takes the liberty of climbing up into the remains, digging around for anything of sentimental value.

There would've been nothing I could've dug out of the remains of my home.

It isn't long before she finds what she's been looking for. An excited noise escapes her lips, and she gathers some of the things up in her arms, then makes her way carefully back down to me. She hands me a few of the possessions and I finally get a good look at them—one is a photo of her parents on the day of their wedding, another is a large, leather-bound book, and the last is a jacket that she puts on immediately after freeing her hands of the other belongings.

"This was my father's," she explains, gesturing to the jacket. "And the book is a book of plants that he had started. It helped me find things that were edible, so that we could survive." She opens the book to reveal names and descriptions of several different plants found around the outskirts of the district, and I'm sure more found out in the woods past the fence. She then gasps and asks me, gesturing to the camera crew, "Oh, will you… keep them occupied for a bit?"

"Sure," I shrug. "Why?"

She leans down and places a kiss on my cheek, and tells me, "I have to get something from outside the fence real quick." She then runs off toward the tree line and I make my way over to the camera crew.

"Where'd Katniss go?" the director, Cressida, asks me.

"Oh, don't worry, she'll be right back," I evade her question, and she gives a curious look to the other members of her crew, but doesn't push the subject.

"Plutarch wants a statement about your reaction to all of this," she tells me, and I see the red recording light on the camera come on.

I fumble for my words, "Um… I mean, what is there to say? It's unbelievable. It… it shows what President Snow's real intentions are. We've always believed that all the rules Panem has lived under are for the regrowth of the human race, but they're really only so Snow can remain in control. And as you can see, if he doesn't have control, then he'd rather not have anyone alive at all… It's senseless. And he won't get away with it. We will make sure of that."

The cameraman pans over to my right, and I turn to see Katniss making her way back to us, her expression resolute, and a bow and set of arrows slung over her back.

Cressida calls cut, and tells us, "I think that's the shot we've been waiting for all day."

We all make our way back to the hovercraft and take off, and I take some time on the ride home to flip through Katniss' father's plant book. His descriptions of the plants are vivid, and I can picture the different flowers and shrubs easily, even if I'd never even known their names before.

It inspires me, and makes me anxious to get my hands on a set of paints or pencils.

"Katniss," I say, touching her arm to get her attention, "I was thinking… If you want, I could add drawings of all the plants to your father's book."

"Oh," she smiles at the suggestion. "Yeah. You want to?"

"Of course," I reply.

She takes my hand and gives it a squeeze, and I smile at being able to understand its meaning as an unspoken gesture of love and gratitude.

The hovercraft lands in a docking bay, and we find Katniss' mother waiting for us, along with Plutarch. She smiles at us and gives us each a big hug, and I feel thankful that she has welcomed me into her family so easily.

When Katniss gives her the wedding photo, tears immediately spring to her eyes.

"Oh, this is…" she sputters, touching the cracked frame with her fingertips. "Thank you," she says through ragged breaths, and hugs each of us tightly again. Plutarch clears his throat, and Katniss' mother jumps a little. "Oh, right. Um, Peeta, if you would excuse us for a moment, I have to talk with my daughter privately."

I glance at Katniss, who is looking at her mother quizzically, and reply, "Oh, um, of course."

"Lunch is being served," Plutarch tells me. "You can get back to your daily schedule from there." I nod at him, and he moves past us to go talk to Cressida and the camera crew.

"I'll… catch up with you later, I guess," I say, and Katniss gives me a smile that doesn't reach her eyes. I know she doesn't have the best relationship with her mother, and I know she must be concerned about whatever she has to talk to her about.

I make my way through the corridors and arrive at the dining hall, finding the table full of my friends instantly—they're all laughing at some playful argument Mags and Chaff are having, but the table grows quiet and solemn as I set my tray of food down.

"Well, don't let me spoil your fun," I try and joke, but it doesn't work.

"Peeta…" Delly says cautiously, "What did 12 look like?"

I sigh, trying to come up with the words for it, "It was… surreal, Dell. Everything was just… in ruins. We could barely find our way around. And everything smelled like smoke and decay. There were still some… corpses rotting among the remains."

Everyone reacts in horror, and then Gale slams his hand on the table.

"Dammit, we have to start making some real progress here, or else Snow will blow all of us into oblivion."

"Gale…" Slater puts a hand on his shoulder to calm him, and he looks over at her.

"No. I want Tank to be able to live freely, and I know you want that for him too. And the only way for that to happen is to fight." He turns to Beetee, "We have to think about acting offensively and put some of those prototypes into use."

"I've been meaning to show some of them to Paylor anyway," Beetee tells him. "Hopefully she'll be able to use something that we've come up with."

"You know," Finnick interjects, "I heard Johanna say that they were looking to train new soldiers for the front lines. She's going to do it, and I've been thinking about it too."

Annie gasps, "No! Absolutely not, Finnick Odair. I did not go through what I did just to have you leave me again."

"But, the rebellion rescued us," Finnick argues, "They healed us… I want to help them."

"We'll help them by getting married," Annie says decisively. "And when all of Panem hears our story and sees us finally happy and together, it'll help the rebellion gain some ground."

I notice all the couples around me in silent communication with one another, and I know they're all thinking about what each of them can do to serve the cause.

"Peeta?" a voice calls, and I turn to see Prim approaching our table. "Um, can you come with me? Katniss needs you."

"Uh, sure," I reply, and I leave the lunch table, all my friends watching me curiously being led out of the room. "Where is she?" I ask.

Prim doesn't answer me. She just tries very hard to control her expression, but it's obvious she's not as good as Katniss when it comes to looking indifferent. She walks me to the hospital ward and drops me off in front of an examination room. She hesitates for a moment, trying to decide if she should say or do anything else, and then spins on her heel and walks briskly back down the hall and around a corner.

Well, that was strange.

I knock on the door and I hear Katniss' strained call, "C—come in!"

Worried by her tone, I burst through the door and find her sitting in a hospital gown on an examination table. She looks like she's been crying, and around her are all kinds of monitors and devices.

"What is it?" I ask, rushing to her side. Fresh tears well up in her eyes and she pulls me into her arms. My mind reels with the possibilities of why she's upset—is she sick? Is it life-threatening? What could've happened to her in the short time we were apart to have her end up here? I hold her tightly and ask her again, "Katniss, please tell me what's wrong."

She pulls away and tries to get her breathing under control, but once she looks at me she starts to hyperventilate again.

"Okay, you're scaring me now. What is it?" I ask a third time, placing my hands firmly on her shoulders to steady her. "Please," I beg her, "is it… serious?"

She scoffs and finally speaks, "Yeah… Yeah, it's pretty damn serious. Um…" She lets out a shaky breath and tells me, "I'm pregnant."

"You're wha—"

All the air leaves my lungs and the room starts to spin, and I quickly find a nearby chair to sit myself down in before I start to hyperventilate.

Did I hear her right?

"Preg… but how? I thought—"

"I don't know!" she cries. "All they have are theories. They think it was all the nutritious Capitol food or the reprieve from life in District 12—"

"How did they even find this out in the first place?" I ask.

Katniss sighs exasperatedly, "Plutarch told my mother what we had told him this morning, and also gave her the report from that Capitol doctor which apparently said I was fine. And he got her all worked up about how we've been… not using any barriers, and how I still haven't had a menses, and so she told me she wanted me to have an exam. So the doctor examined me and…" She finishes her story with a shrug.

"Plutarch told her?" I question, and she nods her head. "Well, he's lying. He's lying like we lied, and is getting this doctor to play along."

"Sorry to interrupt," a woman in a white coat says from the doorway. "Oh good, Peeta, you're here. I'm Dr. Schiller… Obviously you've been told the situation then." She walks toward us and shakes my hand. "I um, couldn't help but overhear, and let me assure you, I wouldn't lie about something that could be so easily disproven in a matter of months—"

"Then, you did something to her. Plutarch must've told you to—"

"We don't have that kind of capability," she quiets me, shaking her head. "We can't just inseminate a woman on a whim like that. No, this happened organically, and judging by the ultrasound, the embryo is five weeks along."

"Five weeks…" I repeat, my gaze falling to the floor.

Dr. Schiller flips through Katniss' chart, telling me, "That would put the conception right around the time of your famous interview…" She smirks at me, and remarks, "Ironic that you would lie about a pregnancy to the nation when, unknowingly, there really was one."

"That was Haymitch's idea," Katniss mentions, and Dr. Schiller nods her head.

I clear my throat, finally feeling like all the information is seeping in, "Doctor, do you think we could have a minute alone?"

"Of course," Dr. Schiller replies. "I'll be right outside when you would like me to come back in. Then… maybe I can show you the embryo on the monitors." She smiles cheerfully at us and exits the room.

I stand and grab Katniss' hand, squeezing it comfortingly. I know what I need to say, and it needs to be said now.

"Katniss, I know you don't want this," I begin. "And if we were still under the Capitol's rule, we would probably have to go through with it. But… we're not under their rule anymore. We could… we could terminate it, and then we could wait to have kids, or never have kids… Whatever you want. I just want you to be happy."

She holds my gaze for a long moment, her expression pensive, and then tells me: "I just… I can't stop thinking of Tank, and how much he's like Gale… And it makes me wonder, is this thing going to turn out to be a little you? A little Peeta? I… I couldn't get rid of a little Peeta. So kind and charming and artistic and sweet… I want that. I know I said I never wanted children, and a part of me is still scared shitless by the thought of it, but…" She takes her hand and brushes the hair from my eyes. "I want this with you."

Tears well up in my eyes and I sweep her up in a passionate kiss, the weight of her words hitting me like a ton of bricks.

She loves me so much; she wants a duplicate.

Although secretly, I hope our child turns out to be more like her.

I place a hand on her stomach, now knowing there really is a growing baby in there, and I break our kiss to greet it. "Hello, little mockingjay," I whisper, "I'm going to make sure you get to fly free—"

A loud siren interrupts my sentiment, and we cover our ears as it permeates the room.

"Katniss!" Dr. Schiller calls from the doorway. "Peeta! This is a Level Five emergency! We're going into lockdown! This is not a drill! Follow me!"


	22. The War

Katniss dresses as quickly as possible, and we make our way out into the hallway to join Dr. Schiller and a mass of other inhabitants of 13. Since we're in the hospital ward, most of the people we end up smashed against are patients—some wearing masks to keep the germs away, some in wheelchairs or on stretchers, and a nurse or doctor accompanies almost everyone we see.

"Katniss!" we hear someone shout, so we stop and turn to see Prim struggling through the crowd to catch up to us. People give us funny looks as they pass us, as if our stopping is annoying to them, and finally Prim reaches us. "You're pregnant!" she shouts excitedly over the deafening sirens.

"Yeah!" Katniss shouts back, nudging Prim forward.

"Mom told me! She had me get Peeta for you! How exciting!"

"Prim! Now is not the time for this conversation! For goodness sake, keep moving!" she yells, giving Prim a gentle push toward the large staircase. These stairs are especially clogged, since those in wheelchairs have to be carefully carried down. We stop, and wait, and inch forward slowly, and then finally file in and descend even deeper underground. As we move farther downward, the sirens fade until they are only a slight ringing in our ears.

"So, when's the baby due?" Prim asks now that we can actually hear ourselves think.

We each wave the tattooed schedules on our arms under a scanner to count our attendance, and Katniss sighs, "End of March, I suppose."

"End of March?" Prim repeats, sounding disappointed.

"Oh little duck, don't tell me you don't know how long these things take."

Prim gives her sister a scowl, "I know how long it takes, but it's just so far away!"

"It'll give us time for this war to end," I point out, and Prim gives me a thoughtful nod.

"Peet!" I hear Phyl call out to me, and I turn as he slams into me and gives me a big bear hug. "Shit, those sirens were scary! Are you guys okay?" He pulls his wife closely to his side and looks each of us over for any damage.

"Katniss is pregnant, like, for real this time," Prim offers, and Katniss covers her face in embarrassment.

Phyl nods his head as his wife casts her eyes downward. "Oh, wow…" he says. "That's great, guys. Congrats."

Oh. Right. They're still having trouble conceiving. I should've mentioned to Prim that it's a sore subject.

"Uh, thanks," I reply. "Um, sorry to—"

"No. No need to be sorry," Phyl interrupts me, giving a small smile. "This is great for you guys. You're gonna spoil that kid rotten." He jabs me in the stomach teasingly, and so I put him in a headlock.

"Have you forgotten—I beat you and all the other kids in school in that wrestling competition a few years ago?" Phyl asks as he struggles to break free. He wraps his leg around mine, tripping me and forcing me to let go, and now it's him who has me in a headlock.

"All right, boys, that's enough," Katniss' mother says as she approaches us, and we cease our play fighting. She places a hand on Katniss' shoulder and the two exchange a friendly glance, although Katniss' expression is a little more guarded. I'm sure it will take a while for her and her mother to make amends, but I'm glad they're on their way. "Everyone here?" Katniss' mother asks as she silently counts us up.

"Oh no! Buttercup!" Prim cries. "I forgot to go get him!"

"We've got him!" Gale calls to us. He's carrying the cat in his arms, and Slater follows shortly behind with Tank, who has his face buried in Slater's shoulder and his hands over his ears. Gale passes Buttercup to Prim, who crushes the cat in her arms, and Gale tells her, "Tank, uh… reminded us to get him. I think he loves that thing almost as much as you do."

Slater scoffs, "I think you mean, he whined about the cat constantly until we had no choice but to go back for him."

Prim walks up to Tank, who comes alive in Slater's arms and reaches out for the cat eagerly, and Prim giggles at him as she says, "Thank you for saving my cat, Tank."

Tank grabs Buttercup by his ears and Buttercup growls at this, so Slater corrects him. "No, honey, just nice touches," she says, prying Tank's hands away and showing him how to pet Buttercup nicely, which he does better the second time.

"All right, let's keep moving! Everyone to your bunkers!" Plutarch instructs as he moves toward us, and as soon as he sees us, his eyes light up. "Ah, there are our mockingjays! I heard the wonderful news that you really were expecting after all. This certainly changes the angle of your future propos—Peeta, I have one planned especially with you in mind."

"Oh… okay…" I say cautiously, wondering what Plutarch could possibly have up his sleeve.

"Now, you should be moving along to your bunkers," Plutarch tells us. "The rest of District 13 is looking to you to set an example, and we don't want everyone thinking they can just stand around and idly chitchat! Now, we reassigned you to a partnered compartment while you were visiting District 12 earlier today, so you should proceed to Bunker C. Off you go!"

He gives us a push toward the corridor marked 'C,' and we say our goodbyes to Katniss' mother and Prim, as well as Gale, Slater, and Tank, who are all off to Bunker E, the bunker for families. Phyl and his wife follow us, and we are all crowded into our small living spaces, which consist of bunk beds and a storage space carved into the wall. I can tell Katniss is nervous, because she's distracting herself by reading the bunker protocol posted on the wall.

"It says we need to go to the supply station," she tells me. "I'll go get what we need."

"Oh—okay," I reply. I don't want to argue with her. If having a task will keep her calm, then I'll let her have her task.

"Hey, Peeta!" Beetee calls to me as he walks up to our space, and I wave to him. He's got two packs of supplies in his hands. "You're in the partnered compartments?" he asks. "But, you're not officially married yet…"

I shrug, "Perks of being a mockingjay."

"Excellent," he responds. "We're right over there, and the other tributes are further down. How's Katniss doing? Is she sick?"

"Not sick, exactly… She's pregnant."

Beetee's eyes widen in surprise, making his glasses fall down his nose. "Oh!" he exclaims. "Not like—like during the interviews—"

"No, she's actually pregnant this time," I laugh.

"Wow, well that's—oh. Huh."

"What is it?" I ask.

Beetee stalls and stammers a bit, and tells me, "I wonder if Coin still wants you both fighting. She had asked us to construct combat suits for you, but with a baby on the way…"

Us? Combat? Really? I could see Katniss doing that in a heartbeat, but I would be so ill equipped on a battlefield… It almost makes me wish  _I_  were the pregnant one, so I'd have an excuse to stay behind.

Wait, we told Coin this morning that we had lied in our interviews. That means… Did Coin still want Katniss in combat, even though she thought Katniss was pregnant?

"I guess we'll just have to see what they decide," Beetee comments, moving the weight of the supply packs to one hand so he can wave goodbye to me with the other. "See ya around, neighbor."

"See ya," I reply, waving back at him.

Katniss returns with our supplies and we unpack, trying to make this little space feel more at home. Katniss still has the plant book, her bow and arrows, and her father's hunting jacket, which she stores in our carved out square, and I unfasten my locket from around my neck and place it on top of the book.

The sirens, still faintly audible, cut off abruptly as Coin's voice comes over the intercom: "Citizens of District 13 and distinguished guests, thank you all for your exemplary evacuation of the upper levels. All persons have been accounted for and all bunker doors have been secured. I would like to stress to you that this is not a drill, as Rue, a rebel tribute from District 11, has made a televised reference to an attack on District 13 tonight—"

And then, we hear a  _thunk_ , followed by a loud explosion that shakes the entire bunker and everything in it, including all of us. I turn to Katniss for comfort, but she's more freaked out than I am, frantically looking upward and all around for any collapses in the rock walls and ceiling. I grab her hand and give it a squeeze when I realize there isn't even a crack, and that the structure is sound. We're going to be safe.

Then the lights go out, and I let out a small shriek as we are plunged into complete darkness. This time, it's Katniss who squeezes my hand in comfort.

Before our eyes have time to adjust, a generator somewhere kicks in, and the lights come back on, although they are much more flickering and dim than before, like candles.

"Huh, reminds me more of 12 now," I say, and Katniss responds by leaning on my shoulder and letting out a heavy sigh.

Coin's voice comes back through the intercom: "Apparently Rue's information was sound and we owe her a great debt of gratitude. Sensors indicate the first missile was not nuclear, but very powerful. We expect more will follow. For the duration of the attack, everyone is to stay in their assigned areas unless otherwise notified."

"Rue," Katniss whispers, and I squeeze her hand once more. I know what she must be thinking, how it has to be her fault that Rue is now captured instead of here with the rest of us.

"Katniss, I know you're feeling guilty, but you just can't feel that way," I tell her as I wrap my arms around her to bring her close. "It's Snow who's holding Rue prisoner, not you. It's Snow who allowed these Games to happen, and who allowed Marvel to force himself on her—"

"Then we  _have_  to make Snow pay," she practically growls.

My conversation with Beetee pops into my brain. "Katniss, um… Beetee told me that Coin requested the two of us to be in combat—"

"What?" she asks, sitting up, "When?"

"Beetee gave the impression that it was a while ago, when she thought you were pregnant. You know, pregnant from before."

"So, now that I really am… pregnant," she says, struggling with the word, "she'd still let me fight. Maybe they'll even let me… let me kill Snow."

I shake my head, "No, Katniss. I don't want you to be in combat. I'm sorry. I know that's selfish of me and I know you're perfectly capable of fighting, but… This isn't like the feast in the Games. You can't just give me some sleep syrup and go on your merry way. We really have a baby on the way now, and the consequences of you being captured would be much worse than that thug, Cato. There are other soldiers who will fight. All we need to do is be mockingjays, and film some dumb propos." I grab her hands firmly, trying to keep the tone of my voice under control, "But I can't… lose you. I won't lose you. You're everything I care about most in this world."

We stare deep into each other's eyes, and I watch the flickers of light dance in her irises. She nods at me and tells me softly, "All right. I understand. But, I still want revenge on Snow."

"Maybe… maybe we can negotiate for it," I suggest, and she smiles a little at that.

For three days, we remain in the bunkers, talking strategy with our friends, holding onto one another for dear life as we feel the bombs explode above us, and planning our future. It's a difficult thing to imagine—a future where there are no more regulations for population growth, where there isn't a war going on, and where we may not need to live underground—but for the sake of our child, Katniss and I agree that we have to keep dreaming of that future.

Katniss tells me of a cottage near a small lake a few miles outside the District 12 fence that her father would sometimes take her to. She says that if it's not destroyed then she'd like to live there, in solitude. I agree that the solitude would be wonderful.

After a solid twenty-four hours of quiet, we are allowed to venture back up to our new compartments, as the old ones have collapsed in the bombings. Never actually having seen our original partnered compartment, Katniss and I don't have much to compare our new living quarters to, but Beetee and the others assure us that it looks identical, except everything is on the opposite side of where it was in the old compartments.

I happen to spot Paylor in the hallway, and decide to ask her about Katniss in combat. Being the Secretary of Defense, she should know something about it.

"Secretary Paylor!" I call to her, and she smiles when she turns and recognizes me.

"Mockingjay," she addresses me and gives me a salute, and then goes back to being more casual. She asks, "Did you need to talk to me?"

"I did," I reply. "I just need to know… are you planning on sending Katniss into battle?"

"What? No," Paylor answers incredulously. "Of course not, she's pregnant."

"Oh, okay, because…" I start to speak, and then I realize this may all be Coin's plan, and I hesitate whether to say something or not, given Paylor and Coin's relationship.

Paylor gives me a curious look and asks, "Is there something I ought to know?"

"Um…"

How can I possibly tell Paylor that her partner is planning to send my partner into battle?

"Peeta, just tell me."

I say it all in a rush; "Beetee told me that Coin had him make combat suits for us, back when you all still were believing our lie from the interviews." Paylor arches an eyebrow at me, the only sign from her expression that this is surprising news to her, and I immediately start to apologize, "I'm sorry, Secretary Paylor, I don't mean to get in the middle of your relationship with President Coin—"

"Peeta, don't be sorry," Paylor interrupts me. "This was something I needed to know so that I can do my job to the best of my abilities. Obviously the situation is delicate, but it's something that needs to be addressed. And I promise that it will be addressed in a professional manner."

She gives me another salute and turns back toward the direction she was walking, and then I remember Katniss' new demand.

"Katniss wants to be the one to kill Snow," I call out to Paylor, who looks back over her shoulder in my direction.

"She'll need to get in line," she says with a wink, and then continues down the hallway.

Weeks turn into months in District 13, and before we know it, Finnick and Annie's wedding is upon us. It's been interesting watching Plutarch and Coin haggle over the details of the wedding—Plutarch's main goal being to film a riveting propo and Coin's being to conserve the few resources 13 has to offer in the first place. It's a fair compromise in the end, with decorations made out of the fall leaves from above ground and a green dress that Plutarch's assistant brought with her acting as Annie's bridal gown. Annie and Finnick make sure to incorporate the traditions of their district, and Dalton the rebel tribute from 10, performs the ceremony, since the two districts' customs are so alike.

When a choir of children sing District 4's wedding song as Annie and Finnick lovingly touch salt water to each other's lips, tears well up in my eyes. After everything they've been through, they deserve to be this happy.

A fiddler from 12 begins to play at the ceremony's end, and I instantly recognize the tune. It's one played at every celebration in 12, although usually there's more instruments accompanying the fiddler, so the melody sounds a little incomplete. But after not hearing the song in months, it's a treat to hear something that reminds me so much of home.

I grab Katniss by the hand and lead her out onto the impromptu dance floor that is quickly filling up with guests. She smiles at me as our feet remember the steps to the traditional dance quickly, and watching the pure joy come over her face as she twirls to the music, I'm reminded of the little girl I fell in love with at age five, who loved to sing and dance before the weight of the world was put on her shoulders.

Yes, I do hope our child is a lot like her.

The cake I made is then wheeled out, and everyone is floored by the intricate details of the fish and sailboats and sea flowers. Truthfully, I had no idea what those things looked like until Mags described them to me, but seeing the looks of shock and awe on Finnick and Annie's faces tells me that what I created is pretty realistic.

"Oh, this is  _so_  beautiful! It looks just like home," Annie gushes with excitement.

"It really does! Thank you so much, Peeta. You don't know how much this means to us," Finnick adds.

I smile and tell them, "Of course! I'm happy to do it. But you do need to invite Katniss and I to District 4 once all of this is over with in order to see all of these things in person."

"Definitely!" Finnick agrees. "We'll take you out boating for a weekend. There is nothing like it."

"Sounds like a plan," I conclude.

By winter, Katniss' belly has grown significantly, and between the aches and discomfort, the constant harassment from Plutarch, the blistering cold, and the nagging feeling that this war may never end, it's a chore to get her to do anything these days. The only thing she's motivated to do is go hunting with Gale, but the rebels have just taken District 2, and he's as busy as ever.

At least it's another argument for the 'don't let the pregnant lady go into battle' defense that Paylor has been championing. She managed to convince Coin that Johanna Mason would be another good candidate for combat propos, so Coin's focus has mostly shifted to her.

"Come on, Katniss, we have our 27 week ultrasound today," I remind her as I pull the covers off our bed. She curls up at the sudden rush of cold, wrapping the rest of her body around her belly, and groans.

"I don't feel like moving," she complains, and I rub her back comfortingly.

"I know, but we'll get to see our little bird on the monitor. We'll see if he or she sprouted wings yet," I try to sweet-talk her as I grab her robe. Luckily the dress code is not strictly enforced for the mockingjays, so a nightgown and robe is all Katniss will need for the walk to the hospital ward.

Oh, and slippers. Now where are those…?

Katniss huffs and rolls out of bed, vocalizing the protests her body is making against moving, and once her robe and slippers are on, we make the walk to the hospital ward.

"Are you sure you don't want to know the sex of the baby?" Dr. Schiller asks us for the umpteenth time as she glides the wand over Katniss' stomach. "We're getting a very clear picture today. It would be so easy—"

"No," Katniss says firmly. "We don't want to know. And besides, people have a bet going."

Prim thinks it's a boy. Gale and Slater think it's a girl. I think it's a girl. Katniss' mother thinks it's a boy. Haymitch thinks it's a boy.

Phyl has put 2:3 odds on the thing, given that Katniss' parents had two girls and my parents had three boys.

"All right," Dr. Schiller sighs, moving the wand back toward Katniss' right side, "Well then, we'll just get a photo of baby mockingjay's head… let's see, oh! There's a nose, and a hand… That's perfect!" She hits a button on the computer and the picture on the monitor stills. In a few short moments, a photograph prints out and Dr. Schiller hands it to me. "There's your little bird," she says with a smile.

I stare at the photo in awe, and I feel the now familiar itch for the war to just be over. I don't want our child to know this dreary place where Katniss is miserable. I want us to be free—

Unfortunately, the only way for that to happen is if we cooperate with Plutarch.

"All right, Peeta. Now for this propo, you're going to talk about your family's legacy in the Games and how no one until you has ended up happy because they weren't allowed to choose who to be with."

I scrunch my face at Plutarch's words. Yes, my father and mother's relationship was strained, but that doesn't mean they weren't happy. In fact, I have the only remaining photograph of them that proves otherwise. But I know the meaning behind his tactless words, and so I choose not to make a scene over it.

Luckily, he and I have worked so much together in the past months that he trusts me to speak without a script. Which is good, because his scripts are really horrible.

"I'm… not the first in my family to be thrown into the Games against my will," I tell the camera as I stand against a plain, black backdrop. "My father and mother were a product of the Games, as well as my grandfather and grandmother, and an aunt and cousin I never knew I had were in the Games too. I was told that there was something wrong with me because of my family history, and that I may not deserve to reproduce at all." I then hold up our latest ultrasound photo and continue, "If the Capitol had their way, this beautiful child wouldn't exist. But this child—my child— _does_  exist, and I plan to make sure that eighteen years from now, my child will not be forced to pair, and will not go into the Games. My child will be free."

The red light on the camera goes off, and Plutarch praises me, "Wonderful! That is pure gold, Peeta. Excellent job."

It's shortly after this propo airs that the rebels take the Capitol. By this time, so many districts have sided with the rebels that the Capitol barely has any resources left to defend itself. Johanna leads the charge into the City Circle, where President Snow's mansion is, and she gets the satisfaction of slitting his throat before a Peacekeeper takes her out.

Katniss decides it's fitting, really. Snow took away everyone Johanna loved, so she deserved to have the honor of getting revenge. Whereas in Katniss' case, Snow wasn't able to succeed at taking the people she loves away from her, myself included.

And in what is possibly the most rare, yet most important act of diplomacy we've ever seen from Coin, she endorses Paylor to be the new president of Panem. It's… confusing, really, but I suppose people have done crazier things for love.

I just wonder how a power-hungry political figure like Coin was convinced to give up her title…

An impromptu election is held and Paylor wins by a landslide, and she appoints Coin as the General of Panem's military, and Plutarch as Secretary of Communications. She abolishes the Treaty of Proliferation, declaring that the best way for the human race to thrive is for everyone to live and love freely.

The mockingjays, of course, are honored in a special ceremony.

"Well, Peeta, you were not kidding when you said there was a baby on the way the last time we spoke," Caesar Flickerman, tan as ever, jokes with me as Katniss and I sit on a stage overlooking the City Circle.

Following Plutarch's advice not to tell the whole truth and 'ruin the illusion that we created during the Games,' I place a hand on Katniss' very swollen belly and say slyly, "No, Caesar, I definitely wasn't kidding."

"Tell me, how does it feel to know you both brought about change to this entire nation, and that everyone's lives have improved because of your courage?"

Katniss and I exchange a glance, and I reply, "Well, I certainly don't think we can take all the credit. There was a rebellion building long before us, and I'm just thankful that we were able to inspire more people to stand up for what's right."

I look out into the audience gathered before us and spot the faces of those people I thought I'd never see again—Rue and Effie, prisoners of war who were tortured but never gave up hope that they would be saved, and Thresh and Clove, who joined the war effort once the rebels invaded 2 and helped bring the Capitol to its knees—and an overwhelming sense of gratitude fills me.

"I don't think this is something we could've possibly have done alone," Katniss adds as I glance over at her to listen. "I… I used to think that I could only rely on myself. And I did try to rely only on myself for years. But, I've learned that great things are only accomplished when you rely on others to help you."

She takes my hand and gives me a small kiss on the cheek, and the audience awws.

"Can I infer that you're talking about your little bundle of joy here?" Caesar asks with a wink, and Katniss chuckles to herself.

"Definitely," she says, giving me a coy smirk. "I'll be relying on him to change all the diapers."


	23. Epilogue: The Toasting

I finish scrubbing the baking pans as the last loaves of bread cool on the racks, their fresh smell wafting through the air. I hear the ring of the bell on the door, signaling a customer's arrival, so I dry my hands and make my way to the front of the bakery.

"Hi Delly," I greet my friend as she peruses the pastry section. "What can I get you?"

"Are those apple tarts?" she asks, her mouth watering. "I'll take two. One for me, and one for the baby."

I laugh at her logic, but I don't protest. I know better than to mess with Delly, especially when she's pregnant. I take two and gently place them in a bag, and when I hand the bag to her, she takes one out and immediately scarfs it down.

"Uh, you do need to pay for both of those," I remind her jokingly, and she gives me a playful scowl.

"Both of what? Peeta, you're losing it. You only gave me one apple tart," she says with a wink. She hands me a few bills and asks, "You closing early today?"

"In just a few minutes, in fact," I reply, handing her the change.

"You better be," she jokes as she pockets the change and pulls out the other pastry from the bag. She makes her way to the door and gives me a friendly wave, calling out, "See you around, Peeta!"

"Bye, Dell!" I call back.

I perform my usual closing routine—locking the front door and the register, sweeping up crumbs from the floor, putting ingredients back in the pantry—and I make sure to grab one of the now-cooled loaves of bread before heading out for the day. It's beautiful outside, the summer finally upon us, and it seems as though everyone is finding an excuse to be outdoors.

After the war ended four years ago, the refugees of District 12 migrated back to the wasteland of a district that the Capitol all but obliterated, and miraculously, they cleaned it up. Most people began making their living off of planting crops, and others began to work at the factory that the new Capitol—a fairer Capitol—built, where they make medicines.

I decided to tear down the remains of the old bakery, and build a new one from scratch.

The bakery is how I make my living after all. I still paint on occasion, and mockingjay paintings will make a pretty penny if we're strapped for cash, but in my everyday life, I find baking to be more practical. It allows me to be artistic while still serving people with a basic necessity.

It also keeps my family, especially my father, in my thoughts. There isn't a day that goes by that I don't silently thank him for teaching me something I now find extremely useful.

I find my way to the outskirts of town and arrive in the small meadow that has once again turned green with lush grass after the bombings. There, sitting on a large rock skinning a rabbit, is Katniss. The grass crunches under my feet as I make my way to her, and as she hears my unmistakable footsteps, she turns her head in my direction and smiles softly.

I hold up the loaf of bread as I approach her, and her smile grows.

Wordlessly, we make our way through the little trail Katniss has carved out for us. One wouldn't even know it was a trail if they didn't look closely, and Katniss insisted on it being this way so we are less disturbed. There have been a few times, however, when I've gotten lost on the way back to my own house.

The hike to our little cottage is always just long enough—I'm usually ready to start complaining about how we should be there by now when we finally reach it. But the solitude is worth it. The lake is so serene and sounds of the animals are so soothing, especially at night—I don't think I could sleep without them now.

Our daughter loves to whistle to the mockingjays in the trees.

She's four years old now, as old as the peace that was brought to Panem by the rebellion, and I'm proud to say that she is a lovely mix of Katniss and myself. She has chestnut brown hair like her mother, but her eyes are all from me. She's stubborn, but very kind when she wants to be, and is very talented and creative. She already helps to decorate cookies at the bakery, and has a voice that even the birds stop to listen to.

We still have to do the occasional propo, but we're very happy that she's never been exploited for them. She'll learn someday about the role we played in the rebellion, but for now she gets to be a normal little girl.

Katniss wanted to carry on her family's tradition of naming children after plants, and I wanted to carry on my family's tradition of naming children after baked goods. We finally settled on Laurel, after the trees that the cinnamon spice comes from.

I like to think I compromised more than Katniss did, and I've joked that if we have another child, we're giving him or her a pastry name. She always rolls her eyes at this, but begrudgingly agrees to it.

Katniss stores the skinned rabbit and washes her hands while I get to work gathering logs for a fire. We don't usually build fires in summer, but today is special. Instead of building one inside in our little hearth, we're heading outside to our fire pit.

The sun shines down through the trees as we work side by side on building the fire—first we place the kindling, then stack the logs, and finally we strike the flint, and the kindling catches quickly. We move the logs strategically to help the fire spread, and soon the whole thing is ablaze.

We watch the flames dance for a moment, and I can't help but think of the fiery outfits we wore during the Games. I glance over at Katniss and remember just how beautiful she looked as Caesar Flickerman twirled her around on stage, and say a silent thank you to Cinna and Portia, wherever they may be now, for designing a dress stunning enough to match the radiance of the woman who wore it.

She smiles back at me and grabs the loaf of bread I brought home, and she lets out a small gasp when she breaks it open. It's a hearty variety, filled with nuts and raisins, and is the same kind that I gave to her so many years ago in the rain. She leans over to me and plants a small kiss on my cheek, and then passes me half of the loaf.

We skewer the halves of bread and set them over the fire, turning them until they're lightly browned. So many memories flip through my mind as we watch the bread—the sight of Katniss slumped over near our garbage cans, the look of fear on her face when I first approached her on the Reaping day, the first kisses and touches we shared in the Capitol, our afternoon on the roof of the training center when we became intimate for the first time, all the joy and agony of the arena, the long, dreary months spent in District 13, the birth of our daughter, the peace we found at our cottage, the nights Laurel kept us up crying until we broke down in delirious laughter—all of it has led to this symbolic moment.

Once the bread has been toasted, we each break off a small piece and place it to one another's lips. We stare into each other's eyes, silently saying everything that needs to be said, but I still feel the urge to actually tell her out loud:

"I love you so much."

"I love you too."

We feed each other the pieces of bread, and seal the ritual with a soft kiss, and then we hear Laurel's unmistakable squeal as she comes running for us from the tree line.

"Laurel! Come back here, you little rug rat!" Haymitch calls to her as he chases her. Laurel runs to me and I scoop her into my arms, covering her face with little kisses.

"Daddy! I want some bread!" she giggles.

Katniss breaks off a piece and gives it to her. "Here little bird," she says, running a hand tenderly through Laurel's hair. "Did you see the toasting?"

"Yes!" Laurel replies enthusiastically. "Are you really married now?"

"Yes, honey," I tell her, "we're really married now."

Haymitch clears his throat from behind us and says, "Congratulations, you two. It only took you crazy kids five years to officially get hitched."

"And something tells me our paperwork won't be rejected like last time," I add with a wink. I look to the tree line and notice all our friends coming out of the woods to wish us well. "Was this a good compromise?" I ask Katniss.

"Yeah," she smiles, "I'm glad everyone got to see it, and it did still feel like it was just you and me."

"Good," I reply, kissing her once more. We are then bombarded with hugs and cheers from our friends and family, and I'm surprised at how many of our friends outside the district made the journey here just for us.

Finnick and Annie came with their miracle baby, little Finn. Thresh and Clove showed up with their two little ones, twins a little younger than Laurel. Rue, Mags and Chaff travelled together from District 11, and they are all enjoying the new laws set forth which states no one will be forced into marrying or having a family—Rue is enjoying being single, and Mags and Chaff have decided that kids are not for them. Wiress and Beetee took time from their busy lives as Capitol TV execs to come see us. And of course, Gale, Slater, and Tank are here from 2. They decided to move back there to help rebuild after the war, and Gale was actually appointed mayor of the district.

Laurel is enjoying playing with Tank, although Slater seems to think she has a bit of a crush on him. I tell Slater that it's not so uncommon for people to have those types of feelings that young. After all, I was a goner at age five.

Katniss' mom came from District 4, where she works as a nurse in a hospital, and it's been nice to see Katniss and Prim spending time with their mother. Prim lives in the new merchant quarters of District 12, and is running the district apothecary shop and dating Gale's younger brother, Rory. I know it won't be long until they have a toasting of their own.

Delly and Roman attended as well, along with their two children and the third on the way. And Phyl and his wife are here too; their only child is about to turn three.

Perhaps the most surprising guest at our toasting is Effie Trinket, although she is unrecognizable without her makeup and wig and bright outfits. She's actually quite pretty without all of that stuff on, and it's something that hasn't gone unnoticed by Haymitch. Now that he's not on babysitting duty anymore, he's gravitated right to her.

I laugh to myself as I consider the unlikely pair.

We all mingle and catch up, and soon Prim and Phyl tell everyone it's time to eat. It turns out they planned a whole reception for us, getting everyone in the district to help. There is an abundance of food and drink, and everyone begins to dance once the band starts up. The party lasts all evening, and even the littlest of children get to stay up to celebrate. I know that it'll take us a full week to get Laurel back on her regular sleep schedule, but it's worth all the fun we're having now.

At the end of the party, Katniss' mother and Prim graciously take Laurel, telling us with a wink to enjoy our night off.

We decide to leave the mess of empty bottles and dirty dishes to clean tomorrow, and Katniss practically jumps on me when we make it to our bedroom.

She and I weren't sexual with each other for quite a while after Laurel was born—partially because it took time for Katniss to heal, and partially because our child was so exhausting and we just didn't have the energy. But as Laurel has grown and can do more for herself, taking care of her isn't as taxing, and we've actually been able to rediscover our passion.

"I want another child," Katniss whispers to me in between kisses as we lay on our bed, our legs entwined in each other.

"You do?" I murmur against her lips.

She nods her head, "I want Laurel to have a sibling. Look at Prim and Phyl, and all they did for us today. And Laurel enjoyed having all those other kids around."

"Especially Tank," I remark.

"You noticed that too?" Katniss asks, her eyes wide.

I laugh, "She definitely takes after me in that regard."

"Definitely," Katniss agrees, pulling my lips down to hers. My senses become overwhelmed by the smell and taste and feel of her, and my hands move of their own accord to move up her shirt to feel the soft skin underneath. She moans as my thumbs brush across her nipples, and the sound urging me to move ten times as fast to remove her shirt and bra. My tongue flicks across her the dark, hardened nubs and she throws her head back in ecstasy, and I feel emboldened to move lower.

We stop only for the shortest of moments to remove the rest of our clothing, and then I place my mouth upon the heat of her sex. Her hips buck into me as I work my tongue around her folds, tasting her sweet juices, and then I add my fingers, pumping them in and out of her.

Her face turns beautiful and pink as she orgasms, and it makes me hunger to bury myself inside her.

"Peeta… please…" she breathes, and immediately we are face to face again, my length poised at her entrance. I slowly work my way in, savoring the feel of her wet walls all around me, and after a few thrusts, we flip over so she can be on top. Her hips roll into me and I groan at the sensation, feeling myself coming to the edge. I pull her down to me and kiss her fiercely as I lose control and spill myself inside her, and I can feel her contracting around me soon afterward.

I'm not sure where she is in her cycle, but since we didn't use any barriers, we may have just started the long process of making another baby.

Katniss lays her head down on my chest to catch her breath, and I run my fingers over her back and through her hair. I take a moment to silently give thanks that things worked out the way they did, and that all the hardship of the Games led us to happiness.

"I love when you roll your hips like that," I tell her, placing a kiss on the top her head.

"I know, it feels so good," she agrees, giving me a smirk. "You, um… you think that did it?" she asks.

I shrug, "Maybe. Hard to tell right now."

"Hmm…" Katniss hums in response, then her smile grows wider. "Want to, um… go again? You know, just for good measure."

I can feel myself growing hard again, and grin back at her. "Absolutely," I say, bringing her lips to mine.

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone has any suggestions of how better to tag this, please let me know!


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